


If I Loved You Less

by MostPreciousTreasures



Category: Emma (2020), Emma - Jane Austen, Jane Austen - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostPreciousTreasures/pseuds/MostPreciousTreasures
Summary: Though Emma Woodhouse had long known herself to be handsome, clever, rich and never wanting for anything - there was one thing she did not have that, as she grew older, was becoming more and more pronounced.Namely - experience with sex and romance. But mostly sex.At twenty-one, a college senior approaching graduation, Emma was finally starting to feel the “stirrings” she had read about in coming of age novels. Throughout high school and into college, she had yet to experience even a single kiss. She hoped to remedy that - and more - over winter break. But first she had to figure out who would help her with her goal.
Relationships: George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse
Comments: 70
Kudos: 438





	1. All Is For My Mistress

Though Emma Woodhouse had long known herself to be handsome, clever, rich and never wanting for anything - there was one thing she did not have that, as she grew older, was becoming more and more pronounced.

Namely - experience with sex and romance. But mostly sex.

At twenty-one, a college senior approaching graduation, Emma was finally starting to feel the “stirrings” she had read about in coming of age novels. Throughout high school and into college, she had yet to experience even a single kiss. She hoped to remedy that - and more - over winter break. But first she had to figure out who would help her with her goal.

Stepping off the train at 10pm on December 23rd, she immediately spotted Harriet in her mother’s Subaru. Grinning, she hurried over. Once inside, Harriet leaned over to hug her tight. They both laughed with excitement.

“I’m so glad to see you! I missed you so much,” cried Harriet.

Emma hugged her back. “I missed you too.”

Harriet drove them to the local McDonald’s drive-in for Chicken McNuggets for herself and a McFlurry for Emma. They both ordered extra french fries and then sat in the parking lot to eat.

Emma was dipping a french fry in her shake when she turned to Harriet, who was adjusting the car radio to an “80s, 90s, and Now” station.

“Harriet?”

“Em?,” replied Harriet, absentmindedly popping a honey mustard sauce-covered nugget into her mouth.

“I think I’m ready to have sex.”

Harriet’s already wide eyes became as round as dinner plates in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did you start dating someone? Why haven’t you told me?!”

“I haven’t started dating anyone - It’s just that, well, I’m in my last year of college and I still have no experience. Not even a kiss.”

“Oh Emma, it doesn’t matter -”

Emma held up her hand to stop her friend, shaking her head. “I know it doesn’t really matter - I just want the experience.”

Harriet hummed in response, nibbling on another nugget. “Who are you going to do it with? Do you have someone in mind?”

“Well, I was hoping you could help me think of someone.”

Harriet looked out onto the parking lot through the windshield, lost in thought as she opened a packet of creamy ranch.

“Elton?”

Emma grimaced. “Ew, _no_.”

“Okay. What about...William?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

Harriet turned suddenly, dropping her sauce packet into her container of nuggets. “ _Emma_. You should ask Knightley!”

“Oh Harriet!,” Emma blushed, “He’s practically my brother.”

“But he isn’t your brother. You already know each other and he’s so kind. I’m sure he’d make you feel really comfortable. And he’s _so_ cute - I had such a crush on him in middle school!”

Emma laughed, swatting Harriet’s hand away as she attempted to dip a nugget in Emma’s McFlurry.

“But seriously, Emma. Who else would you feel comfortable enough with?”

Emma nodded, looking out the window and sipping on her shake as Harriet drove her home.

_Knightley_.

George Knightley was Emma’s childhood friend - really her oldest friend. And maybe her best friend, aside from Harriet. He had grown up next door to Emma and her family in Highbury, a relatively wealthy town. Though he was five years older than her, the two had always played together and slept at each other’s houses. His family was old New England money, as Emma’s was, but his parents were more lively and interesting than her dowdy father. His mother had been a painter and his father had been a children’s book publisher. Both of them had died when Knightley was twelve. His older brother John, who was ten years older than him, had moved home to take care of him until he turned eighteen. Knightley had been a constant in her life for many years and there was no indication that he wouldn't remain in her life for years to come.

But the more Emma thought about it, the idea of _having sex with Knightley_ didn’t sound so crazy. Though he liked to tease her, he never made her feel stupid or vapid. He was older and more experienced. And one couldn’t help but admit that he _was_ handsome, if in a somewhat brooding way. She knew him well and he would make her feel safe.

She tried to be as quiet as possible after Harriet dropped her off, but she was still met by her father in the living room and caught in conversation though she much rather would have gone to bed. _Yes_ everything at Yale was going well. _No_ she had not been sneezed on by someone on the train. _Yes_ she had gotten the flu vaccine. _No_ she had not seen Anna yet.

Emma’s mother had passed away when she was five and her older sister Isabella was eleven. Soon afterward, Mr. Woodhouse went looking for an au pair to help him take care of his daughters. He eventually settled on Anna, a recent Ukrainian immigrant in her mid-twenties. Emma barely remembered her mother now and so always looked upon Anna as a surrogate mother. Anna was kind, warm, stern when needed, and in the possession of a tremendous sweet tooth - she was always making some new dessert. She loved going to the opera, sketching landscapes, and collecting plants. Her nature was so enjoyable to be around that she even managed to make the notoriously prickly Isabella smile on occasion. When Emma was a senior in high school Anna fell in love with Mr. Weston, a widowed neighbor and friend of her father’s. Though Emma hated change, a trait she shared with her father, it cheered her that she would still be able to see Anna regularly. And though she was no longer Emma’s au pair or in the employment of her father, she always made time to check in on Mr. Woodhouse and send Emma care packages while she was away at college. And since her marriage to Mr. Weston, it was expected that he and Anna would join the Woodhouses for most major holidays. 

Emma was excited to see Anna and briefly wondered if she would share her plan with her. Could she confide in the woman who had practically raised her that she was attempting to get laid before winter break ended? She needed to mull it over some more.

Eventually, after chatting with her father for a few more minutes, she was able to retire to her room with her bags. She was so tired that she almost fell asleep in her clothes. After mustering the energy to drag herself to the bathroom to wash her face, she quickly changed into pajamas and fell into bed.

In the few moments before falling deeply asleep, Emma thought once more about having sex with Knightley and decided that _yes_ , he was the right choice for the endeavor.

  
  


***

The next day - Christmas Eve - was leisurely. Emma spent the better part of the morning in bed, rising around lunch time to cobble together a cold sandwich. She ate that sitting at the kitchen island while drinking a cup of coffee and planning her outfit for that night. Every Christmas Eve for the past six years or so, Emma had dinner at home with Knightley and her father. It had begun when Knightley’s brother married Emma’s sister and the pair moved to Providence, Rhode Island. Though Emma had never felt particularly close to Isabella (nor was she sure that she even _liked_ her sister), she knew her father missed her terribly - especially on Christmas Eve, which had been the girls’ mother’s favorite part of the holidays. With Knightley’s brother now gone as well, the young man was alone in his family’s huge, ancestral mansion during all holidays and school breaks. Emma had come to him and suggested that they all might be a little less lonely on Christmas Eve if he were to join her and her father for dinner. He had agreed and ever after it had become a yearly tradition without anyone having to say so. John and Isabella came up on Christmas day, nowadays with their seemingly ever-growing hoard of children, but December 24th remained just a day for Emma, Knightley, and Mr. Woodhouse.

At 5pm, Emma returned to her room to shower and dress for the evening. Once out of the shower and wrapped in a towel, Emma entered her room to find the Woodhouse's fluffy, marmalade-colored cat lounging on her bed.

“Perry!,” cried Emma, “I was wondering where you were.” She approached the bed and gave the cat a scratch about the ears.

“I might do something naughty later that you might not want to be around for - fair warning.” Perry just nuzzled her hand and purred.

Emma changed into her outfit of a long-sleeved cranberry velvet babydoll dress paired with knee-high gray socks. She pinned part of her hair up, letting the rest of it fall down her back. As she swiped on a coat of lip gloss, Emma had to pause and wonder if she was _trying_ to look prettier than usual. She shook her head - she was being silly. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and had worn this outfit hundreds of times. Then why did she catch herself smoothing down her hair a few times? Why did she keep making sure that everything looked alright? _You know why_ , came a devilish little voice inside her head. _He’s probably waiting downstairs right now_. Emma took a deep breath, willed her heart to beat slower, and headed downstairs for Christmas Eve dinner.

Padding down the stairs and through the halls, Emma made her way to the kitchen. Rounding the corner, she was immediately met with the sight of Knightley sitting casually at the kitchen island, snacking on chips and reading _The Guardian_ on his phone. Hearing her arrival, he gave her a small nod of acknowledgement.

“Emma.”

“George.”

Nobody ever called Knightley, _George_. Not even Emma’s persnickety father. Only she ever called him by his first name. His brother usually called him "G." Sometimes Emma called him Georgie - what she had always called him when they were children. He pretended to be cross when she did it. But she knew he actually liked it.

She looked him over as he continued to eat from the party size bag of Kettle Brand jalapeño potato chips. He looked good. Ever since she had known him he had worn his hair long, but she had long suspected it had more to do with having bohemian parents (and then no parents) than being a personal preference. Though his blonde hair no longer reached his shoulders or below, he wore it longer than was currently trendy for most men. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in a teen magazine ten or so years ago when floppy haired heartthrobs were all the rage. 

She could tell from his outfit that he had “dressed up” for dinner - though he always had an ease about him that made whatever he was wearing look rumpled and casual yet not messy. He noticed her taking in his maroon cardigan worn over chocolate brown pants, a pale pink button-down, and black socks. He popped another chip into his mouth and tilted the bag toward her in offering. “Like what you see, Em?”

She took a chip, meeting his gaze as she bit into it. “What shoes did you wear?”

“White Vans.”

“Hmmm, very good.”

He smirked at her. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”

“I predict that in exactly -," she looked at the clock on the stove, “ - ten minutes, papa will trudge downstairs, complain about the cold, usher us into the living room, and grill you about school. A dinner of roast chicken and potatoes will follow, completed by the usual overly boozy trifle. Then papa will retreat to the den, where he will fall asleep in his favorite chair.”

Knightley hummed. “I love when Anna makes roast chicken. Very lemony.”

“She knows you love it and makes it just for you.”

He smiled a wide, toothy smile at that, hopping down from the kitchen island to wash his hands at the sink. “What’s the plan for you and I tonight.”

Emma leaned over the island, reaching her hand into the bag to snag another chip. “After dinner I thought we could drink wine, watch movies, and eat a whole package of Oreos.”

“Excellent idea,” said Knightley as he dried his hands and leant back on the sink.

“Do you want to do presents tonight or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” said Knightley, “I haven’t finished wrapping yours yet.”

Emma and Knightley always gave each other exactly one present every year on Christmas. No matter what. They had started the tradition when Emma was seven and Knightley twelve, the year his parents died. It was Emma’s favorite part of the holidays. Knightley was a thoughtful gift giver and never gave her something as dull as a gift card or tried to control her tastes by giving her a book he thought she should read. He always picked out something that felt exactly _her_. She treasured every gift he had ever given her.

Emma was about to ask Knightly if he thought they had time to do a shot of Grey Goose before her father came down, when Mr. Woodhouse unceremoniously appeared in the kitchen.

“Emma are you eating? Surely you’ll spoil your appetite.”

“George started the bag, papa.”

Mr. Woodhouse then turned to see Knightley still braced against the sink, noticing him for the first time since he’d come into the room.

“Ah Knightley! Good to see you - keeping warm? It was rather chilly today.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good, very good. Come I want to hear more about your thesis plans.”

Before Knightley was whisked away to the dining room, he caught Emma’s eye and gave a small sigh. She chuckled. Mr. Woodhouse always adored Knightley, but Emma knew her father could be a bit much. Still, Knightley was more than gracious with him and would politely answer question after question.

What Emma liked best about her friendship with Knightley was how easy it was. She never felt the need to entertain him, as she did with so many others, and they never seemed to feel the need to make concrete plans. They would be hanging out at her house and suddenly find they had chatted their way to the library, for a walk around the duck pond, and to Knightley’s house where they'd order Dominos pizza (he liked to order toppings by quadrants). They were always talking but their conversations never felt forced and even silences with him were comfortable. They never really needed to invite each other anywhere - it was always just assumed that they would be together.


	2. Sweetness That She Gave To Me

After a dinner spent listening to Knightley detail his PhD thesis plans to her father’s endless delight, Mr. Woodhouse settled in the den to watch PBS while Emma and Knightley sprawled on the living room couches watching terrible holiday Netflix movies on her laptop. Eventually they got tired and made their way to Emma’s third floor bedroom. They were a little tipsy, from the Spanish wine they had with their after dinner Oreos, and kept shushing each other, which made them laugh harder and harder.

Grinning and wiping tears from her eyes, Emma bustled around her room, turning on her bedside lamp and preparing her nighttime routine. Anna had set a few logs to blaze in the fireplace and it cast the rest of the room in a rosy glow. Knightley smiled softly, moving to lean against her door frame with his hands in his pockets.

She looked over her shoulder at him as she took out her earrings. “Are you sleeping over tonight?”

He nodded, coming further into the room. “I was thinking about it. I like waking up here on Christmas.”

“Do you remember when we’d sleep in here, lying as still as possible, barely breathing, while listening for any sign of reindeer on the roof?”

Knightly gingerly fingered a porcelain bisque doll on her bookshelf. “I do. You’d always get scared when I told you that I could hear something downstairs. And then you’d scream bloody murder when I tickled you.”

“Well, who wants a strange man in their house?”

His hand left the doll. Knightley turned his body towards the door, making to leave. “Do you want me to wake you up in the morning?”

Emma knew this was her chance. She thought about what Harriet had said. _Who else would you feel comfortable enough with?_

“Actually - wait. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

He paused, hand on the doorknob as if to pull it closed on his way out. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Can you shut the door?”

He did as she asked and came back into the room, stopping just before one of her plush, sheepskin rugs. “Is this a dangerous and classified secret Miss Woodhouse? Because if so, I’ll have to ask you to speak clearly into my lapels.”

She rolled her eyes, barely containing a smile. “Have you been watching that _Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy_ miniseries with my father again?”

“Well I had to do something - I was here at least a whole week before you got back!”

Emma snorted. “Well, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk about. Something I’d like to do over the break.”

“Get into John le Carré adaptations?”

“I want to have sex.”

He was quiet. She looked up at Knightley, taking in his wide eyes and open mouth. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

“Uh okay? ”

Emma sighed. She was starting to regret this. “George, I’m about to graduate from college and I have no sexual experience. That didn’t start bothering me until recently, but it bothers me now. I want to know about sex things. Not just penetrative _sex_ \- I want to try different things. I’m ready now and there isn’t anyone else I trust enough to do this with.”

A thousand different emotions seemed to flicker over Knightley’s face. “You want to have sex with me?”

“Well - yes. Basically.”

He nodded, still taking it in. “Em - are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” said Emma, somewhat impatiently. “I’ve thought about it and I’ve decided that I want to do it with you.” A small part of her mind told her to examine why he hadn’t said anything like “You’re almost my little sister” or “I just don’t think of you that way," but that was a train of thought for another time.

Knightley was moving again and now stood near her dresser. “When would you want to start?”

Emma flopped onto her bed, propping her head up with one arm. “Well, I was thinking now.”

“Now? Right now?”

“Yes? Do you have something better to do?”

“No, no -” Knightley said, seeming to surprise even himself with his sudden forcefulness, “Now is fine.”

“Good,” smiled Emma, basking in the warmth and glow of her room’s cheery fire.

Knightley walked to her bed, wrapping a hand around one the wooden four-poster pillars. “What about your father?”

“Oh please,” said Emma, pulling herself up to sit cross legged on the comforter. “Between the Champagne at dinner and his after dinner brandy, I have no doubt that he is now fast asleep in front of a Masterpiece Mystery episode. And besides, my room is in the back of the house. It’s just me, mother’s old crafts room, and the guest room. Which is really actually _your_ room if we consider how much time you spend sleeping there compared to your own house.”

“Yes, you’re right,” said Knightley, smiling shyly and running his hand along the wood of the bed frame.

“So you don’t have to be worried about anyone hearing us - at least for tonight.”

“Alright.”

“Good! Where do we start?”

Knightley paused to look Emma over as she leaned back on her arms. In the dim lighting of her room, his ocean-blue eyes were considerably darker.

“Take off your clothes,” he murmured.

Emma arched an eyebrow. “Will you be taking off your clothes as well?”

“No,” Knightley smirked, turning to the plush wingback chair in the corner of her room and bringing it next to her bed. He sat down, patting the armrests. He was almost close enough to touch her now. “I’ll be right here.”

“What can we do if you’re _there_ and I’m _here_.”

Knightley reclined in the chair, getting comfortable. “We aren’t having sex tonight. I want you to touch yourself and make yourself come.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to be shocked. “George, that’s not -”

“I know Em - but listen - you said you wanted to experience a variety of ‘sex things’, as you so eloquently put it, and this is the best way for me to learn about what you like so I can make sure other things will be comfortable and enjoyable for you.”

Emma blushed now. “But we haven’t even kissed yet.”

Knightley tilted his head, eyes quizzical.

Emma’s voice was small. “I’ve never kissed anyone, either.”

Understanding passed through Knightley’s eyes and his lips parted. He stood up from the chair. Emma rose up on her knees to match him in height. Knightley leaned forward, gently cupping one of her cheeks. He looked at her for a moment before sliding his hand to the back of her neck and threading it gently through her hair. Emma closed her eyes. Knightley’s lips met hers in a sweet kiss, both of them humming lightly. It was relatively chaste as kisses go, but Knightley sat on the bed to deepen it a little. Then just as he was softly biting her bottom lip and rubbing the back of her neck, which had Emma ready to grab him and drag him flush to her body, he stopped and pulled back. 

“Take off your clothes,” he said again, voice lower this time.

Emma swallowed as Knightley sat back in the chair. She swung her legs over the side of the bed to take off her socks. She had just grabbed the hem of her dress when Knightley said her name gently. She turned to see him leaning forward, his ever gentle eyes looking into hers. “Do you want to stop?”

She shook her head. In one fluid motion she stood up while pulling her dress off. The crimson velvet puddled at her feet and was soon followed by her sheer white bra and underwear. She looked at Knightley, a hint of challenge in her eyes. His eyes swept over her, taking in every soft curve and every body part he had not seen since they were young children in a bathtub overflowing with soapy bubbles. Then Emma crawled back on the bed, settling against the pillows.

Knightley raised his eyes back to her face, studying her. “Just do what you normally do. You can close your eyes and pretend I’m not here. I won’t touch you or say anything.”

Emma nodded, shifting her body to get more comfortable. Then she closed her eyes and spread her legs.

Though she was no stranger to touching herself, it took her a few moments to get into it and find a rhythm. At first all she could focus on were the sounds of Knightley adjusting in the chair and his light breathing. But soon enough she was able to relax and start enjoying it. She could feel herself growing wetter so she slid her fingers down to collect her arousal and bring it back to her aching clit. She spread her legs wider, hips bucking slightly. She could feel her pussy start to clench and she knew she was close to coming. She wondered what she looked like to Knightley. She wanted to open her eyes and see him watching her, but the impulse scared her. With a few more swirls of her fingers, she was whimpering and crying out. Panting in satisfaction, she settled back against the pillows and opened her eyes. 

Knightley was looking right back at her, one hand raised to cup his chin in thought. She could almost see herself in his eyes, flushed from wine and heat and glowing from her orgasm. His eyes caught on her pale breasts, tipped in dark nipples that hardened further under his gaze. She felt his eyes move to her soft stomach and then the downy thatch of hair below. They finally settled, for a moment, on the pink and glistening flesh between her still-spread legs. Then his eyes returned to hers.

“Did you like that?”

Emma blew out a breath. “Yes - it felt very good.”

He nodded, standing up and moving to her door. Emma had started to panic, thinking he was just going to leave after watching her come all over her hand, when he plucked her light pink silk robe from the hook on the back of the door and came back. He stood next to the bed, holding the robe open in invitation. Emma moved forward, still feeling a little shaky, and he wrapped the robe around her. He smoothed his hands down her arms and secured the belt at her waist. “Go wash up,” he said gently, “I’ll be right here.”

Inside her en suite bathroom, Emma examined her flushed face with a critical eye. God she was pale - her orgasm making her look like someone had slapped her in the face. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, applied moisturizer and padded back to the bedroom. As she moved to the dresser to change into her pajamas, she glanced at Knightley to see him now lying on top of her bed. He had removed his socks and sweater and rolled his shirtsleeves up his forearms. His hands rested on his stomach and his eyes were closed. He had turned off her bedside lamp and the dying fire made his fair hair look like a halo. He looked peaceful. Emma turned her back to him, suddenly feeling shy changing in front of him now that he had seen her in the throes of passion. She slipped into her sleeping outfit of a white silk teddy and matching shorts. She crawled on the bed next to Knightley, careful not to jostle him.

“What are you thinking about?”

He left his eyes closed, but gave her a small half smile. “M’ not thinking. I’m listening for Santa.”

Emma laid down, folding her own hands on her stomach to mirror him. “I hope I get roller skates.”

He chuckled lightly, now opening his eyes and turning on his side to face her. She turned over to meet him. He looked at her for a moment, then reached out to play with the fingers of her hand that rested on the bed. “Do you still want to do this?”

“Yes.”

He swallowed, his body growing a little tense. “Okay. I really want you to be comfortable, Em. I’ll wait for you to contact me about getting together for this stuff, alright?”

She twined her fingers with his. “That sounds perfect.”

He smiled at her and relaxed again. 

“Was it helpful to watch?”

Knightley hummed in affirmation, moving a little closer. “Yes, very. Do you always do it like that?”

“Like what?”

“With your fingers. Just touching your clit.”

She raised her eyebrows, thinking about it. “I’ve tried putting my fingers inside before, but it’s never really done anything. Maybe I can’t get the right angle?”

He nodded, watching her softly. “That’s good to know.”

They were quiet for a few moments and Emma was afraid he would make another attempt to leave so she whispered, a little shyly, “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

In response Knightley sat up, peeling the covers back from the bed. He and Emma scrambled under them and he coaxed her into his arms, encouraging her to lay her head on his chest. They settled and grew drowsy.

“Goodnight Em,” Knightley murmured softly.

“Goodnight Georgie.”

She could feel him smiling as he pressed a light kiss to her hair. He fell asleep shortly after that, his gentle breathing calming her. It took Emma a little longer - she thought about how easy it had been to convince him. And how it hadn’t felt scary or creepy to have him watch her, just safe. In the back of her mind she was even able to admit that it had turned her on a little. The last thing she thought about before slipping into sleep was the realization that this was the first time in years that she and Knightley had shared a bed like this. They were still children the last time and now he was a man, wrapping her in his arms.

  
***

When Emma awoke, it was to that blissful feeling of snow having fallen over night. The air felt calm and cozy, as if the whole world had been tucked under a blanket. She stretched a little and noticed the weight of an arm around her waist - the night before now coming back in a rush. Dinner, wine, asking Knightley to have sex with her and finally - touching herself to climax in front of him. Emma shifted her body to face him. The blankets had fallen to his waist and Emma could see that he had stripped to his underwear in the night, leaving him in black boxer briefs. She took in his sleeping face and the rise and fall of his chest. He was hairy there now and it gave her a flutter of _something_ in her stomach.

He wasn’t as asleep as she had thought, as in the next moment he mumbled, “It’s too early to get up.”

Emma smiled, glancing at her bedside clock. “It’s 9:00 am.”

“Mmmm, precisely.”

Emma settled down again, now facing him. He snuggled a little closer and she felt something hard bump her thigh.

“George.”

“Mmmm?”

“Can I touch you?”

His eyes opened. “What?”

“Can I give you a hand job?”

“ _Christ_ Emma.” He was sitting up now and leaning against her headboard.

“Is that a yes?”

He eyed her, a little warily. “You really want to?”

“Yes I want to try it.”

After a moment he nodded. “How do you want to do it?”

She crawled over and straddled one of his thighs. “Like this? And we could kiss if it would make it easier?”

His blue eyes, brighter now in the snowy sunlight, dropped to her mouth. “Yes.”

Before she could say anything else he cupped the back of her head and brought her mouth down to his. He kissed her deeply, their breath mixing hot between them. Emma reached her hand down to run along the front of his underwear. He whimpered into her mouth, running his hands all over her body. He couldn’t seem to keep still - at one moment he was touching her face, then stroking a breast, then lightly caressing her ankle. She had barely touched him yet Knightley already seemed on the precipice of coming. Emma decided that she liked having this power over him. She liked it _very_ much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles have been taken from the song [Queen Bee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGq_5xVB6p8) that Johnny Flynn (Mr. Knightley) wrote and performed for the new Emma movie.


	3. My Heart Has Long Been Given To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kind words! I'm having so much fun writing this story.

Emma didn’t know what she was doing. But that hardly seemed to matter to Knightley, for he moaned and gripped her like this was the first time he had ever been touched by another person. She asked him if he liked it faster or slower and if she should tighten her grip, but he said everything she was doing was perfect. That almost made her snort in reply - surely he was only trying to make her feel comfortable during her first attempt at jerking someone off.

She had seen his penis before - _many_ times actually. In bathtubs and swimming ponds, even running around the backyard together naked. But she had not seen it for a good while, the last time being a summer birthday party a few years ago when a group had gone skinny dipping late at night. It had been dark and she’d barely seen it, but she had still seen it. To her memory it had looked like any other penis she'd seen in movies or photos. Now in her hand though, she had to acknowledge that he did feel quite _thick_. Thicker than she assumed most penises were. She voiced this thought to him and he swore, bucking sharply into her hand. He kissed her feverishly after that, both her mouth and her neck, and came a few moments later in her hand and across his stomach. He dropped his head against her breasts at the end, taking a moment to breathe deeply and recover. Eventually Knightley leaned back, opening his eyes to fix her with a hard gaze. His breathing was still labored but slowing to normal. He smoothed his hands up her thighs to rest on her hips.

“That was very good.”

Emily smiled shyly. “Really? It was okay?”

“ _Yes_ \- really. Can I touch you now? I want to make you feel good. Please.”

After all that, Emma was riled up. She wanted to accept his offer - quite badly - but she shook her head. “John and Isabella will be here soon. We should get ready.”

His hands tightened on her hips and then relaxed. He groaned and dropped his head against the headboard with a dull thud. “Yes, okay.”

Emma hopped off his lap and disappeared into her bathroom, only to return a moment later with a damp washcloth. Knightley made some murmuring protests about her not needing to do this, but she shushed him and he relaxed as she gently wiped his stomach with the warm cloth. 

While Emma showered and changed in her room, Knightley snuck across the hall to the guest bathroom to freshen up. He always kept a few pieces of clothing at the Woodhouse’s just in case. Emma was putting the finishing touches on her makeup and Knightley was buttoning his shirtsleeves in her doorway when they heard the bells on the kitchen door jingle, signaling John and Isabella’s arrival. Then they heard a steady rising of several voices, dulled somewhat by the many floors between them. Emma locked eyes with Knightley through her vanity mirror. They both sighed. Isabella and John were...an interesting couple. Isabella was demanding and John, though easy-going and funny, was often cowed by her. They also had five children - all of them under ten years old. It was going to be a tiring day, as always.

Emma was moving towards the door with the intention to usher Knightley downstairs when he frowned and stopped her with a gentle hand to one of her elbows. “Oh Em, I’m sorry.”

“What for? What’s wrong?”

Knightley raised a hand, lightly brushing at a spot midway up on her neck.

“I uh - must have kissed your neck too hard when uh...earlier.”

Emma turned back towards her vanity. “Oh you gave me a hickey.”

Knightley winced. “Sorry.”

Emma rolled her eyes - Knightley could be so _dramatic_ sometimes. It was barely noticeable. But it was dark enough for her eagle-eyed sister to immediately spot. Emma quickly changed out of her previous outfit, covering the bruise up with a white turtleneck worn under a black corduroy overall dress. All covered up, she turned back to Knightley who seemed almost sad to see the hickey gone. But surely she was imagining things.

After a few more moments of lingering on the landing, the two could no longer avoid their family. In the dining room they found John unpacking presents while one of his children ran around him in a circle. He looked up when Emma and Knightley appeared in the doorway together.

“G! Did you sleep here?”

“Yes John he did - he lives in the guest room now. Hunched and trapped, like a cursed goblin. Sometimes papa will throw him a bone after dinner.”

John grinned at her. “Ah lovely Emma, how I have missed you.” He squeezed her shoulder and turned to Knightley. “You have a whole house to yourself and you’d rather sleep in an attic guest room?”

Knightley shrugged. “It’s always just me there. It’s lonely. If Emma’s home, I’d rather be here.”

Emma could have sworn Knightley’s eyes flickered to her briefly when he said that last part but John didn’t notice, too caught up in putting a fallen sock back on one of the babies perched in it’s carrier on the sideboard..

“ _And_ it’s old and drafty. _And_ critters are always getting in somehow,” said John dryly.

Knightley chuckled, relaxing into brotherly camaraderie. “I think there’s a bird’s nest in the greenhouse gutter again.”

“Jesus. Listen, G, I know you didn’t want to talk about this on the phone but if you really -”

Emma left the boys to catch up, drifting into the living room where her sister and father were catching each other up on various ailments and misfortunes that had befallen themselves or other members of the family. Not wanting to partake in the conversation, Emma went to the kitchen hoping to spend some time alone with Anna. They always ate Christmas “dinner” in the early afternoon and though the meal was fully prepared and warming in the oven, Anna was still puttering around the kitchen making gingerbread cookies. Anna was really a part of the family now, but she always seemed to start cooking projects in the middle of family get-togethers. Mainly due to shyness and insecurity over speaking a second language - though she had now been in the U.S. for nearly twenty years and spoke practically flawless English.

“When’s Mr. Weston getting here?,” asked Emma, pinching off a bit of the spicy dough that Anna was rolling out and popping it into her mouth.

“He should be here soon, he was on phone with Frank when I left - Emma do not eat the dough please.”

Frank Churchill was Mr. Weston’s son from his first marriage. After his wife died, Mr. Weston fell into depression and was unfit to raise his young son. His wife’s family, the Churchills, offered to raise him. Mr. Weston was still a part of his life and saw him several times a year, but Frank had still taken his mother’s family name as his own. Emma had met Frank once, many years ago when she was a child, and barely remembered him. He was said to be tall, dark-haired, and mischievously charming. He was twenty-four, two years younger than Knightley, and the two had actually gone to college together at Stanford. Whenever Emma had asked Knightley about Frank in the past, he would say he didn’t know him very well and would change the subject. 

“I’m going to tell everyone dinner will be ready soon. Do you want to cut out stars?,” asked Anna, wiggling a star-shaped cookie cutter at Emma.

She hummed in affirmation, moving to take Anna’s place over the dough. Anna took off her flour-covered apron, smoothing her green dress and patting her chignon hairstyle on the way out. Emma heard her meet someone in the hallway and chat with them briefly, Anna’s dulcet laugh wafting back into the warm kitchen. Emma heard someone come into the kitchen after that but was too absorbed in her task to immediately look up.

“Very domestic.”

Emma turned, leveling Knightley with a playful glare. “These aren’t for you. They’re for the Orthodox Church bake sale. Papa told me Anna’s been spending all week making snowballs and lemon crinkles.”

Knightley came close to her, standing so that he was half next to her and half behind her. He was close enough that she could feel the heat from his body and it made her shiver a little.

“I’ve been told to keep you from doing something bad.”

“She doesn’t want me to eat the raw dough.”

He placed an arm on the counter and began playing with one of the metal cookie cutters shaped like a pine tree. “Ah yes, I’m well aware of your love of the stuff. Many birthday parties, all of them featuring endless pints of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.”

“I don’t see why this is any different,” huffed Emma, laying her cut-out stars on the baking tray.

“The stuff in ice cream is heat-treated, Emma.”

“Yes well...my mouth can’t tell the difference.”

He was quiet after that. Emma cut a few more cookies before turning to see him staring at her lips. He saw her catch him and he pressed against her a little more, firm enough that Emma could no longer pretend it wasn’t intentional. He lowered his head slightly, speaking lowly, “Em...do you want me to stay over again?”

She knew what he meant, but the intimacy of their position made her want to be a little coy. “In the guest room?”

He lowered his head a little more, speaking directly in her ear. “In your room. In your bed.”

She turned her face up towards him, feeling his gaze hot upon her. _Why_ was she doing this? Being flirty and leaning into his touch? He was her oldest friend, someone she had known since childhood. Maybe they should stop? She really didn’t know what she was doing and could think of a million reasons why this was actually a bad idea. But Emma still wanted to learn. And she couldn’t resist this new tension that had developed between them.

One of his hands began to rub her back soothingly and with his other arm resting on the counter, he had effectively trapped her against him. “Have you changed your mind?”

She turned in his loose semblance of an embrace. “I thought you said I should come to you?”

He swallowed, his arm tightening around her back. “Yes...but I, uh, Emma I don’t know -”

Suddenly Isabella stalked into the kitchen, causing Knightley and Emma to spring apart at her entrance.

“Emma. You’re avoiding me.”

Emma huffed, turning back to her stars. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Well why are you and Knightley hiding in the kitchen?,” she paused at the counter, “Are those cookies? You’re baking _now_?”

Knightley was now beet red and shuffled to Emma’s other side, farther away from Isabella. Searching for something to do, in an attempt to look less suspicious, he began lining up mini M&Ms to look like buttons on a gingerbread man. “Anna was making them. Church cookie swap.”

Isabella looked at Knightley. The two had little in common and barely spoke, so Isabella seemed almost surprised that he would say anything at all. “I see.”

Emma cut out one more star and then turned to wash and dry her hands. “Well you’ve found me. Shall we catch up?”

“Fine. I’ll be in the living room,” said Isabella curtly before storming out again. 

Knightley huffed a breath of relief, leaning on his forearms against the counter. Emma approached him and stood next to them, their bodies almost in a mirror of their previous compromising position. “I want you to stay,” she said softly, “But Anna and I always go to the movies the day after Christmas. And then we have a tea party when we get home.”

Knightley closed his eyes, clearly a little embarrassed. “Yes, I forgot about that.”

It was something Emma’s mother used to do with her and Isabella, before she died. Anna later started doing it with them, and it was something that Emma looked forward to all year.

“I should probably stop calling it a tea party,” she blushed, “I know it’s -”

“No,” said Knightley, cutting her off as he turned to her, “It’s cute.” He was looking at her with something close to _fondness_ in his eyes. It gave her the same fluttery stomach feeling as when she had looked at his hairy chest that morning.

She squeezed his arm. “Maybe the day after?”

“Yes, of course.”

She nodded and turned to leave, but then paused at the doorway. “I know we’ve barely done anything, but I’m really enjoying this so far George. It’s fun and I feel safe with you.”

He looked at her, smiling softly. “Good - I’m having fun too Emma.”

Dinner was pleasant and relatively uneventful. Anna made a vinegary brisket served with Yorkshire pudding. Isabella and Mr. Woodhouse continued to complain about one thing or another, while Mr. Weston was funny and charming as always. Knightley and his brother drank a lot of wine. After dinner, everyone crowded into the living room where Anna had sneakily laid out various pies and desserts. Everyone murmured their delight and began pouring coffee and filling their plates with treats. Emma settled on the rug in front of the fire, next to a sleeping Perry. She looked around the room, spooning floating island pudding into her mouth. Anna was smiling gracefully as John and Isabella forced her to look at photos from their various vacations. The couple’s older children were playing hide and seek with one of the babies, who giggled with delight every few minutes. Eventually her gaze settled on Knightley, who was beginning to mentally tap out of a conversation between Mr. Weston and her father. An idea occurred to her and she reached for her phone. She dashed out a quick message while stroking Perry’s soft fur.

_Want to make out in the library after everyone leaves? You can even finger me against a bookshelf ;)_

After pressing send on the text, she watched Knightley boredly take his buzzing phone out of his pocket and tap it on. She smirked with delight as he read the text, seeing his eyes widen in shock as he absorbed the message. He looked up at her for a beat, then began typing out a reply. She looked down at her own phone, watching the three dots appear as he typed something. Then the dots stopped. Then they started again. Stopped. And then, finally, came his reply.

**_Yes_ **


	4. Yearn For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Knightley was going to say to Emma last chapter (because it won't be brought up again within the story):  
> "Yes...but I, uh, Emma I don’t know if this can be a casual thing for me."
> 
> The fool is in love!!

“You want to do it right here?”

“Yes! I’ve been turned on all day - ow, my elbow!”

“Sorry!”

Emma and Knightley knocked into various pieces of furniture as they attempted to navigate their way through the darkened library. It didn’t help that as soon as they were alone Knightley had hiked Emma up around his waist and the pair proceeded to kiss like their life depended on it.

Their clandestine plan hadn’t gone quite as smoothly as Emma would have hoped. In an effort to free herself from John and Isabella’s attentions, Anna had casually mentioned hearing there would be snow tonight. For Anna knew what she was doing - knowing full well that a sudden snowstorm always whipped Emma’s hypochondriac father and sister into a panicked frenzy. After Anna’s words, everyone turned sharply towards Mr. Woodhouse.

“Snow?,” he had said dimly.

Then Isabella was up and crossing to the windows, revealing to everyone that it was in fact snowing that very minute. Suddenly everyone was moving, clearing plates and dashing for coats and boots. John was grabbing toddlers left and right. Emma found herself in a corner with Knightley, both of them unnoticed in the hustle and bustle.

“John and Isabella will want to stay over,” said Knightley, turning his body a little into hers.

“Yes,” sighed Emma.

“It’s okay, I’ll just tell them that I’m staying to watch a movie. John has a key - they can go on without me.”

“But are any of the rooms ready?”

“I hire a cleaning company to come every month to dust and stuff when I’m not there.”

“Oh that’s clever.”

He smiled at her, subtly stroking one of her wrists. “I started doing it after I came home for Thanksgiving in college one year and discovered Anna ironing sheets and washing the floor.”

“No!,” gasped Emma.

“Yes - it hadn’t occurred to me until then that the house should still be cleaned regularly even if no one was living in it all the time. She threatened to keep coming back if I didn’t hire someone. I think she _still_ looks in from time to time to see if I’ve kept my promise.”

Emma laughed. “Okay. I’ll go get my laptop. We have to give the _illusion_ of wholesome activities.”

“Good idea.”

Emma and Knightley settled on one of the living room couches, pretending to watch their movie. Neither of them could concentrate on it, tension and excitement vibrating between their bodies. They kept glancing at each other and smiling and Knightley was progressing closer and closer to her on the couch as the movie played. Isabella and John had departed quickly after the initial snow alarm, trudging over to the Knightley family home with all their offspring. Emma’s father declared a headache and disappeared upstairs. For a brief moment, Emma and Knightley thought they would be able to slip away unnoticed and he drew an arm around her in an attempt to bring her in for a kiss - but then Anna and Mr. Weston had appeared with presents, Scrabble, and a couple of beers. Knightley’s arm had dropped back over the couch, still behind Emma but not obviously touching her. But when the older couple wasn’t looking, he would stroke Emma’s upper arm softly.

They played a few rounds of Scrabble, opened presents with gratitude, and even shared a beer between themselves - but the second they hugged Anna goodbye and shut the door, Knightley’s hands were in Emma’s hair and they were kissing their way to the library. Though it was early evening, the library was very dim as they stumbled around, kissing and groping each other. They knocked over a stack of books as Knightley perched her on an end table. Emma fumbled for a moment and finally found the switch for a reading light. 

“There,” said Knightley as he smoothed her hair back, “I can see you now.” He gently pressed himself between her legs and started kissing her neck. Emma hummed with approval as he nibbled on one of her ears.

“How long can you stay?,” asked Emma, wrapping her legs around the backs of his thighs.

“I told John I’d come back in an hour and a half,” replied Knightley as he rocked against her, letting her feel how hard he was.

“Touch me?,” whispered Emma, taking his face in both her hands.

He kissed her again and trailed a hand down to her hem. She whimpered as he traveled up her thighs and finally reached her damp underwear.

“God - Emma you’re _soaking_ wet,” breathed Knightley as he rubbed his fingers over her cunt through the fabric.

“Please, please I need you.”

“Yeah?,” asked Knightley against her lips. “Where do you need me?”

“Your fingers…”, whimpered Emma, feeling drunk with lust.

“Do you want them inside?”

“Yes!”

He smiled and kissed her, slipping his tongue in her mouth. He moved her underwear to the side and sighed deeply as he felt her slick flesh. He rubbed her clit for a few moments, making her practically gush onto the table, and when he decided that she was wet enough he slowly slid two of his fingers into her. Emma cried out as he did it - his fingers were longer and thicker than hers’ and they filled her in a way that she hadn’t known she needed until that moment. Then Knightley curled his fingers inside her, stroking her walls until she was shivering with delight. He was hitting a spot she had never been able to reach on her own.

“Does it feel like this when you put your fingers inside, Em?,” asked Knightley hotly against her neck.

“No! It’s so good...so good. I _love_ it - please don’t stop George.”

He began to pump his fingers in and out of her, which filled her belly with warmth and made her start to buck against his hand.

“Oh yes, yes - like that. Please!”

“Yeah that’s it - does that feel good?”

“ _Yes_. Please, please don’t stop!,” she panted, riding his fingers.

She clung to him as he fucked her harder. “I won’t stop, I want you to come _really_ hard for me. Can you do that?”

She nodded, losing herself in the swirling haze of pleasure he was creating. He sucked on her neck, murmuring encouragements and other words Emma could barely hear. Eventually he brought her to that sharp peak and she was lost. She shook as she came, her cunt gripping his fingers rhythmically. She sobbed and held him close and soon she heard him grunt against her neck as he found his own release from rubbing against her.

“Fuck Emma,” he panted as he rested his forehead on her shoulder.

Emma ran her fingers through his hair and tried to bring her breathing back to normal. His fingers were still deep inside her when she asked, “How many girls have you slept with?”

Knightley paused. “Emma...”

“Oh come on - just tell me.”

He swallowed, not meeting her eyes. “Fourteen.”

Emma wasn’t sure why he was so embarrassed - to her it seemed like a fairly reasonable amount of people to have slept with by one’s mid-twenties. And yet...Emma couldn’t deny that hearing the number gave her a twinge of jealousy. 

“You really know what you’re doing.”

Knightley snorted, withdrawing his fingers from her and wiping them on his pants. “Most of them were one-night stands or short-lived hookups. Having a certain number doesn’t necessarily make you good at sex.”

“What does?,” asked Emma, looping her arms around his neck.

He looked at her intently, stroking her sides. “Knowing your own body. Taking the time to know someone else’s. Listening. Being comfortable with the person you’re having sex with. Caring about pleasing them.”

Emma nodded her head. “That makes sense.”

He kissed her once more and then he _hugged_ her. It was tender and comforting and Emma closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of closeness. After a moment he pulled back, pulling her dress back down and stroking her cheek. “Now - should we _actually_ watch a movie?”

Emma nodded and giggled.

Back in the living room, and with no one to interrupt them now, Emma and Knightley spooned on the couch with him propped up behind her and one of his arms slung over her belly. They watched _The Birdcage_ for the hundredth time and laughed heartily. They took breaks to sneak to the kitchen for more of Anna’s Christmas desserts, feeding each other bites of trifle in the glow of the open refrigerator. After the movie ended, Emma walked Knightley to the door and they kissed slowly for a few moments. Then they said goodnight and he went home.

Later in bed, Emma felt full and warm and loved. But then she thought of the number _fourteen_ , and her heart clenched. Did she have a _crush_ on Knightley? Had she always had a crush on him?

_It doesn’t matter_ thought Emma, turning on her side as she mentally scolded herself. _Even if you wanted to be with him that way - it just wouldn’t make sense. You’re a virgin undergrad he’s known his whole life; he wouldn’t want to_ actually _be with you. He’s just being kind._

And yet…

She thought about the way he looked at her now and how desperately he kissed her. Maybe he felt the same way? She reached her arm out, grabbing her phone from the bedside table.

_I had a really good time tonight._

He replied almost instantly.

**_I’m glad - I had a good time too._ **

Emma rolled onto her back, thinking of what to type next.

_was the house on fire when you got back?_

**_Lol_ **

**_No thankfully. Everyone was ready for bed and I helped them tuck the kids in. I tried to read Hank some of my old comic books but he got bored pretty quickly and wanted to play Animal Crossing._ **

Emma smiled, thinking of Knightley trying to explain who Wolverine was to John and Isabella’s tempestuous oldest son.

**_What are you seeing with Anna tomorrow?_ **

_we’re not sure yet - how likely is it that I can talk her into going to once upon a time in hollywood?_

**_Survey says: Not likely at all_ **

_lol_

Emma was growing drowsy and put her phone down on her chest, resting her eyes. A wave of loneliness washed over her that surprised her. She picked up her phone again.

_I miss you_

She stared at her screen for a few moments - Knightley didn’t have read receipts on so she couldn’t tell if he had seen it. Five minutes passed. Then ten minutes. Fifteen minutes after Emma had sent Knightley that text, she put her phone facedown on the table and fell into a sour mood. She felt a sob catch in her throat, but she willed her eyes to remain dry. She fell asleep after and did not see Knightley calling her to ask if he should come back. Calling to say that he missed her too and wanted to kiss her until they fell asleep. He thought about leaving a message saying all that; but he didn’t.

***

  
The next day, Emma went with Anna to see _Little Women_. Emma enjoyed it and the ending made her cry. But the whole time she couldn’t stop thinking of Knightley. Kissing him, waking up in bed with him and the way he sounded when he orgasmed. It made her blush and squirm in the dark theater. And though she really did like the movie - the friendship between Jo and Laurie made her uncomfortable. As a lovesick Laurie declared to Jo, “You will care for somebody, and you'll love him tremendously, and live and die for him. I know you will, it's your way, and you will _and I'll watch_ ,” Emma couldn’t help but feel that she didn’t identify with any of the March sisters - for she was really a Laurie.


	5. Come My Love Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this chapter that is mostly pure fluff and smut - some major angst is coming in the next few chapters!

Emma barely saw Knightley for several days. John and Isabella ended up staying with him for a few days more and Emma assumed he was busy entertaining them. She had already had her fill of her nieces and nephews, babysitting them on the 28th so that her sister and brother-in-law could go out to eat with some friends. Knightley helped her bring boxes of cookies to Anna’s church cookie swap, but he left early to play indoor basketball with Harriet’s boyfriend Rob. Other than that, he texted her a little - mainly memes and funny tweets - and she texted back, but Emma suddenly felt _shy_. Like she was afraid to give her metaphorical hand away. She was more than certain that she had a crush on Knightley now and it was really throwing her for a loss. She didn’t know how she should act around him when they were together in person again.

On the 29th, she went out to lunch with Harriet - sushi, Harriet’s favorite. It was exactly the distraction Emma needed. Afterwards they wandered around the mall like they used to do when they were teenagers. Harriet got a second piercing in her ear while Emma went to a Japanese bakery and got them bubble teas and different treats like soft buns filled with sweet red bean paste. They finished the day by returning to Emma’s house to watch _Married at First Sight_ \- an Australian reality show that Harriet was currently obsessed with. They were lounging and sipping their bubble teas when they heard the kitchen door open and someone come down the hall - assuming it was Anna, Emma shouted, “Come watch this awful show with us! Some guy just recorded his wife’s conversation with her sister!”

Emma looked up smiling and was surprised to find not Anna standing in the doorway, but Knightley looking slightly bewildered. Emma sat up quickly, “Oh George - I thought you were Anna.”

He blinked at Emma then turned to dazedly stare at the garish TV show streaming out of Emma’s laptop. “No...it’s me.”

“Did John and Isabella leave?”

“Yes. This morning…”

His words hung dead in the air for a few moments as Emma struggled with what to say. Why was he here? Had he come to tell her he didn’t want to have sex with her anymore? That she was too young for him and they should just be friends?

“Knightley! It’s so good to see you!”

Blessedly, Harriet broke the tension by standing up to hug the older boy. He smiled fully and hugged her back. They murmured cheerful greetings to each other while Emma tried not to bite her fingernails off.

“Rob told me you hung out the other day! It made me so happy to hear - he really misses you.”

“Yeah - yeah it was great to see him. We had a lot of fun. He told me you guys -”

Emma tried to pay attention to their conversation but her stomach was in knots. She decided to pretend she was deeply caught up in watching terrible couples yell at each other on her laptop. Eventually Harriet turned back to Emma, determined to finish the show, “Do you want to join us? We were out earlier and Emma got us lots of candies and things. Do you like mochi?”

Knightley’s lips curled up in a small smile. “No thank you - I’m sorry I interrupted. I’ll get going.”

“Oh okay - see you later!”

Knightley then looked pointedly at Emma - she hadn’t really said anything since his arrival. She could barely look at him.

“...Goodbye Emma.”

“Bye!,” Emma was finally able to squeak out.

With one last defeated look, Knightley turned and left the room. Emma sat there for a moment, her heart pounding so much that she could hear it in her ears.

“Hey Harriet - I’m gonna go get something.”

“Okay! Do you want me to pause it?”

“No, I’ll be right back.”

Emma popped off the couch and dashed into the kitchen. Then she ran to the door and opened it quickly. Knightley was halfway down the lane and turned back sharply when he heard the door open.

“Hey,” said Emma, padding out onto the porch in her stocking-covered feet.

“Hey,” replied Knightley, coming back to peer at her from the bottom step.

“Why did you come over?”

Knightley blinked. “Uh...oh, well. When Christmas ended early, we forgot to give each other presents. I was just bringing yours over.” He pulled a small, flat box tied with a ribbon out of his pocket.

Emma grabbed her face with her hands and laughed. “ _Oh_ the presents!”

Knightley was halfway up the stairs. “I can come back later?”

Emma paused. 

“Um - what if I came over. Tomorrow night?”

Knightley was one step below her now. “You want to come over...to exchange presents?” He looked up at her, a playful twinkle in his eyes.

Emma swallowed. “Maybe - I could stay over?”

Knightley hummed, reaching out to play with the hem of her short, black, cheerleader-style pleated skirt. “I’d like that.”

“Okay great!,” said Emma, a little too high-pitched. “See you tomorrow!” She turned back to the kitchen, eager to make her escape.

“Emma?”

“Yes?,” she asked, turning back in hesitation.

“Remember to bring my present.” He smiled at her, a little wolfishly, and it made her heart drop into her stomach.

  
  


***

Emma arrived at Knightley’s house at 6pm the next day. It was about a five minute walk - their homes being separated by a small wooded area and a couple of garden paths. Emma had spent all day agonizing about what to wear - she changed her outfit again and again before settling on a pair of cropped pants, a short-sleeved button-up shirt, and a big fuzzy cardigan. Stroking her sweater as she slipped it on, she noted in her mind that maybe she had wanted to wear something that would act as a soft barrier between herself and her feelings for Knightley. She was very nervous.

When she arrived at the house, she paused for a few moments before ringing the bell. Should she just turn around and go home? Maybe she could text him that she felt sick…While she was lost in thought, the door opened and Knightley stepped out. He was shoeless and dressed in a slate gray oxford shirt worn open over a white t-shirt and black jeans. His hair was a little damp, like he had just gotten out of the shower.

“Oh hi - am I too early?”

“No, I was just in the kitchen and saw you through the window.”

“Oh,” said Emma as he led her inside, “Were you cooking?”

He smiled. “Ordering Chinese.”

“Sesame chicken?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Crab rangoon?”

“Of course - even though I still think it’s _extremely_ disgusting.”

Emma laughed, relaxing a little. Maybe this would be okay.

  
  


They ate their food in the living room on Knightley’s gigantic leather sectional. They laughed and talked of the Weston’s annual New Years Eve party happening the next day and about who might be there. Emma forgot her earlier worries and it felt like it was just any regular time they would hang out. After dinner they drank Korean beers and watched an episode of a war documentary Knightley was raving about. Emma draped her legs over his lap without asking and he rubbed her knee through her pants.

When the show ended he turned to her. “Presents?”

“Yes!”

Emma went to her bag and pulled out her gift to him and brought it back to the couch.

“I know it looks like just a card - but it isn’t.”

“Hmmm okay,” said Knightley as he put his arm around her while she sat down.

He opened the envelope and took a folded print-out from the inside. “Oh Emma…”

Knightley was a PhD student at MIT and when he wasn’t studying, teaching, or working at his fellowship (which was most of the time), he liked to go to the movies. His favorite theater in the Boston-area was the Brattle Theatre, a quirky little theater in Cambridge that programmed classic, art-house, and foreign films. Emma had bought him a year-long membership, which included free tickets.

“I know how much you like it and I thought you probably wouldn’t think to get yourself a membership there. They have all kinds of great programs and extra perks. And don’t say it’s too expensive - I wanted to do it.”

“It’s perfect, Emma. I love it. Thank you.”

Emma smiled at him. “You’re welcome.”

“Okay, my turn,” said Knightley, turning to grab her present off the coffee table.

He handed her the small, ribbon-covered box from yesterday. She untied the bow slowly and lifted the lid off. Inside, nestled in a bed of wispy cotton, rested a necklace. It was an oval-shaped locket on a long chain. It’s slightly tarnished face was inlaid with rhinestones in the shape of a crescent moon and stars.

“Is this vintage?,” asked Emma, picking it up to marvel at it.

“Yes - I just replaced the chain. I got it at the antique store downtown.”

“It’s beautiful,” breathed Emma.

Knightley smiled, scooting closer to her. “Open it.”

She did. Inside was a polaroid photo that had been cut-down to fit in the locket. It was a photo of a beautiful woman holding a straw-haired baby.

“Mom,” said Emma, tearing up a little with emotion.

“I asked your father for the picture - it was taken a few days after you were born.”

She turned to him then, throwing her arms around him to hug him tight. “Thank you.”

He rubbed her back and kissed the side of her head. She slipped the necklace on when they broke apart. Then she shifted onto her knees and crawled onto Knightley’s lap, straddling him. His hands immediately went to her hips. They began kissing and Emma ground against him, desperate for the friction.

After a few minutes Knightley murmured, “Emma...what do you want to do tonight?”

Emma kissed his neck, running a hand down his chest. “Anything.”

He groaned and held her hips down to bring her a little harder against him. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

“Yes.”

  
  


In Knightley’s room, Emma immediately jumped on the bed and began frantically unbuttoning her shirt. Knightley followed her in order to kiss every inch of skin that came into view. He helped her slip off her bra and then leaned her back on the bed, kissing and mouthing at her stomach and breasts. When he began sucking on her nipples it made Emma cry out sharply.

“Do you like that?,” asked Knightley, licking one nipple and playing with the other.

“Yes - _oh_ George it feels so good.”

He leant up to kiss her mouth hard. “I love when you say my name.”

Emma blushed and Knightley flashed her a wicked smile as he unbuttoned her pants and started sliding them down her hips. Finally she was laid out before him in just her underwear. Knightley had shucked off his overshirt but was still dressed in his t-shirt and jeans. Emma luxuriated in the feeling of his rough clothes against her sensitive parts.

“Can I go down on you?,” asked Knightley as he played with her breasts while kissing her belly and thighs.

Emma rose up on her arms to look at him and bit her lip. “Yes - I’m a little nervous though.”

Knightley sat up and pulled her onto his lap. “We can just try it and if you don’t enjoy it I’ll stop, okay?” She nodded and he squeezed her bottom playfully.

It turned out that Emma had no reason to be nervous - for she quickly learned that she _loved_ having someone go down on her. Or at least, she liked Knightley going down on her in particular. He would alternate between licking her pussy and sticking his tongue inside her, which made her gasp. But what she liked best was when he would lick and suck on her clit. She moaned and gripped his hair, pleading for him not to stop. He nodded against her and spread her thighs wider, pinning them to the bed. Emma loved the feeling of his hot tongue circling her and the gentle scrape of his stubble against her thighs.

He kissed her clit quickly and pulled away to gasp, “I love how you taste.”

Emma nodded frantically and tried to pull him back to her. “Please, please, I’m _so_ close.”

He returned to her cunt after that and licked her diligently until she shattered, coming on his tongue as she cried his name. Emma fell back to the bed to catch her breath and Knightley chuckled lowly, kissing his way back up her body. He kissed her mouth and she tasted the tang of herself. He pulled away and gazed at her for a moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed. Before she could muster out a shy _Thank you_ Knightley was kissing her again and his fingers were rubbing up and down her pussy, careful to avoid direct contact with her sensitive clit.

“George…” Emma whimpered as he stroked her slowly and she could feel herself growing even wetter at his touch.

“Do you think you can come for me again?,” he whispered.

“I don’t know if I can…”

He bit her neck and lightly rubbed her opening, causing a fresh surge of wetness to gush out of her. “You don’t want to come all over my fingers again, like a good girl?”

“Oh god,” gasped Emma, “Yes, _yes_ please!”

She could feel him smirking against her neck as he pushed his fingers into her, _three_ of them this time. He wasted no time in finding her sweet spot and began pummeling it with ease. Emma began to whine, feeling a sharpness begin to overtake her lower half.

“Oh god - _George_!”

“I can feel how close you are,” said Knightley as her arousal began to drip down his hand, “You’re almost there baby...come for me nice and hard.”

Emma nodded and squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed by pleasure. Knightley was building her to something and it felt so _good_ but she also felt like she was about to piss herself. Yet it felt so good she didn’t want to stop. After a few more strokes, Emma felt a glow of pleasure and warmth wash over her.

“ _Oh,_ ” breathed Emma, opening her eyes as her body stilled. Then she was coming, hips bucking as an exquisite pressure rushed out of her. She was gushing - she was _squirting_ , all over Knightley’s hand and his bed. She cried loudly as her orgasm passed through her. Knightley gathered her into his arms and held her as she sobbed. 

“So good…” she moaned as he peppered her face and neck with kisses.

They laid like that for a while, eventually drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.


	6. Take My Heart Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knightley hates to see it (Frank Churchhill)!

The next morning, Emma woke to a New Years Eve day that was clear and bright. Rising at eleven, she made out with Knightley for close to an hour before eating cereal with him in his gigantic, empty kitchen. Then she hurried home, determined not to tempt her father into sending out an AMBER alert - though she was far too old for such a thing, she didn’t doubt that Mr. Woodhouse would find a way to make it happen.

Slipping through the kitchen’s backdoor, Emma immediately ran into Anna. “Oh! What are you doing here?”

Anna huffed, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I try one more time to convince Mr. Woodhouse to come to the party tonight.” 

Emma smiled - her father was invited to the Weston’s New Years Eve party every year, but he never came. He always cited a cold, or a migraine, or an aching knee. In reality, Emma knew that her father was terribly shy and such a large party was too much for him to handle.

“I assume he said he had a stomach ache?”

“Even better - swollen glands.”

They shared a chuckle and Emma made to head upstairs.

“Emma...he’s good boy. Be careful, okay?”

Emma felt herself blush from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said vaguely, turning back to face her former au pair.

Anna smiled a sly smile before slipping on her coat, “Yes you do.”

  
  


Emma took a long bath and went through an elaborate skincare routine in order to distract herself. Emma had thought she and Knightley were being very discreet - had Anna seen something? Did that mean John and Isabella also knew? Worse even - did her father know?

_Maybe we should just do it tonight_ , thought Emma as she brushed her hair. _Get it over with and everything can go back to normal._ She ignored the part of her that cried out in sadness at the thought of not kissing Knightley anymore.

Emma was glad when Harriet arrived at 4pm with her overnight stuff and a big Ziploc bag filled with makeup and glittery nail polish. They always had so much fun getting ready together for special events. Harriet rifled through her closet, looking for something to wear. Emma enjoyed putting her own outfits together, but what she _really_ loved was styling other people and she cherished every moment that Harriet let her dress her. They chose a black knee-length dress with a square neckline and long sleeves with slightly puffed shoulders. Emma added a pair of velvet, chunky-heeled mary-janes in a lovely ochre color. Then she pinned her friend’s brown hair back with a pearl-encrusted barrette.

Harriet applied her makeup while Emma selected her own outfit. She decided on a white lace high-necked dress with long, sheer, cuffed sleeves. It was actually a 1970s wedding dress she had found on eBay, but she’d shortened it to mid-thigh and modified it to have a cut-out back. She swept her blonde hair into a low ponytail and finished her outfit with the necklace from Knightley, white fishnet stockings, and a pair of block-heel, ankle-strap sandals in a mossy green lizard pattern. Finally, she slipped on her faux-fur leopard print coat.

All ready, she sat on her bed to wait for Harriet and idly picked up her phone. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Anna had said earlier and it was driving her crazy. She pulled up Knightley’s name in her messages.

_can I stay over again tonight? after the party?_

**_Yes, of course. I was actually thinking about asking if you wanted to._ **

Emma smiled and put her phone down. Then, feeling a rush of bravery, she decided to send one last message.

_if you want to, I think I’d like to have sex tonight. I’m ready_

Three dots appeared for a moment and then disappeared. And then:

**_I want to - if you’re sure you’re ready_ **

***

The girls briefly paraded their outfits in front of Mr. Woodhouse, who said they looked beautiful but fretted that they would catch a cold the second they went out. Emma kissed her father goodbye and wished him a Happy New Year. True to Mr. Woodhouse’s worries, it _was_ rather chilly so the girls decided to take Harriet’s car to the party rather than walk. 

The Weston’s had a funky modern home, lots of reclaimed wood, and their New Years Eve Party was nearly infamous in their little town. Mainly because it featured such a large, interesting mix of people - business associates of Mr. Weston’s, parishioners of the Ukranian Orthodox Church Anna went to, and people Emma had grown up with and their parents. People looked forward to it all year and always came in their best looks.

Inside they chatted with Anna, who was busy in the kitchen slicing into a delicious looking roast ham. Then they made their way into the dining room, which had been cleared out in favor of a makeshift bar. A certified bartender, Rob had been hired by Mr. Weston to run it for the evening. Harriet kissed her boyfriend hello while Emma took a moment to take in their surroundings. Everything had been tastefully decorated with winter greenery and two high-school students had been recruited to softly play the cello and violin in a corner. Everything was beautiful and glowing with warmth. But they soon learned that they had arrived too early - a mistake Emma realized when one of the only people to talk to was Elton. 

Elton was a year younger than Knightley, and they had all gone to the same private middle school and high school together. Harriet, having been raised by a lower-middle class single mother, had afforded her education on a series of special grants. Elton, ever a snobby social-climber, had always taken it upon himself to be extra cruel to Harriet. Emma also disliked him personally because the way he looked at her made her feel gross and exposed.

But too late - the awful man had seen them and was making his way over to catch them in conversation. Elton looked like a cad as always - overly dressed in a navy suit, shiny shoes, and a _pocket square_ while most of the other men were dressed more casually in trendy jackets and dark pants.

“Hello, ladies - don’t you look beautiful tonight.”

“Hi Elton,” said the girls in unison, catching each other’s eye in despair.

They listened to him talk about some venture capital project he was involved in and he asked Emma questions about Yale. Eventually Harriet mentioned that she went to the University of Massachusetts Amherst.

“ _UMass_?,” gasped Elton in revulsion. “Why would you go there?”

Harriet looked away. “I got a full scholarship.”

“Well a state school’s good too I suppose. It’s accredited.”

Emma had just opened her mouth to tell Elton where he could shove his accreditations, when someone else beat her to the punch.

“It’s a great school, Phillip.” said Knightley, suddenly appearing as if out of thin air.

Elton turned to the other man, reddening at the use of his much-disliked first name. 

“Oh...hello Knightley.”

“Harriet worked really hard for that scholarship - which is more than a lot of us who are fortunate enough to pay full tuition can say,” continued Knightley, never mind that he had always been a straight A student and was now in a fully-funded PhD program at a prestigious university. For, unlike herself, Emma knew Knightley was insecure about his wealth and was always suspicious of his own achievements, never fully convinced that he had accomplished them on his own merits and not by the influence of his generous inheritance.

Elton reddened further, knowing that Knightley was pointedly scolding him for talking down to Harriet. “Yes...that’s true. Well, I’m going to get another drink,” said Elton, even though his glass was full. “It was nice seeing you all.”

“Bye Elton!,” called Emma as Harriet tried to stifle a giggle. Knightley raised his eyebrows playfully at the girls and moved in closer to join them.

“Knightley you look _very_ handsome.”

“Oh thank you Harriet, I really tried tonight,” said Knightley bashfully.

With Elton gone, Emma was able to fully take in Knightley’s appearance, and indeed he _did_ look quite handsome. He was freshly shaven and sporting a slim, black bomber jacket over his black jeans and white button-up shirt. Emma smiled to see that he was wearing his preferred white lace-up Vans, but his hair looked a little neater than usual and he smelled faintly of a spicy, cider-y aftershave.

Knightley turned to her as she looked him over. “Do you want a drink?”

Emma smiled shyly. “Yes - thank you.”

“Harriet?”

“Oh no thank you! I’m done after one drink,” she replied, gesturing to the gin and tonic Rob had made her.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He winked and pressed his hand to Emma’s bare lower back briefly before heading to the bar.

As soon as Knightley was out of earshot, Harriet side-eyed her friend. “Emma, is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Emma blushed and fixed her hair. “It’s quite hot in here isn’t it.”

“You’re having sex with Knightley!”

“Shhh Harriet! We haven’t had sex - but we’ve...been doing other stuff...”

Harriet’s eyes twinkled as she clapped her hands and practically jumped up and down. “Oh I knew it - I’ve been waiting for you guys to get together for _so_ long!”

Emma played with the locket Knightley had given her. “It’s not really like that - it’s just casual. I mean, I think I might have a crush on him - a little one. But I don’t know if he feels the same way.”

Harriet quirked an eyebrow at her friend. “Emma, he's practically undressing you with his eyes from across the room.”

Emma looked up in time to catch Knightley’s heated stare before he turned away and pretended to be very interested in a bowl of cut-up lemons.

“I don’t know Harriet. I think I should just have sex with him and be done with it. I was actually thinking about going to his place tonight if that’s okay with you. I’ll come back, I don't have to stay over.”

“Oh that’s okay with me - as long as Rob and I can play _Grand Theft Auto_ on your father’s giant TV until you get back.” Emma laughed and said that of course she could and Harriet squealed with excitement.

“Oh this will be great! But I really do think you should tell Knightley how you’re feeling - what if he wants to be with you too?”

“I don’t know Harriet.”

“Okay, _okay_! It’s your life,” said Harriet as she was pulled into conversation with Missy Bates and her mother.

Emma decided to get a little fresh air as she suddenly felt very flushed.

Knightley found her on the back deck as she leant against the railing. He handed her a drink. “Whiskey sour okay?”

“Oh perfect, I love maraschino cherries,” she said, clinking her glass against his beer.

They stood in a companionable silence, watching the party through the glass doors.

She felt him move closer, his arm brushing against hers. “You look really pretty tonight, Emma,” he said softly.

She smiled at him. “High praise indeed.”

“ _Well_ you look pretty all the time I suppose.”

They were silent once more but his hand was on her back again, rubbing a light circle.

“Thank you - for earlier,” she said as his hand trailed along her spine, giving her goosebumps.

“Hmmm?”

“Harriet...Elton...”

“ _Oh_ \- no that was my pleasure. He’s always been a huge prick. I was more than happy to shame him publicly.”

“Well thank you anyway, I know it meant a lot to Harriet.”

“Harriet’s my friend too, I wasn’t going to stand by and watch her be insulted.”

Emma smiled at him and sipped her drink. He smiled back, then leaned forward a little. “Emma...could we actually, uh, talk?”

Emma’s heart sank. _This was it._ Knightley was going to end it and she was going to have a broken heart on New Years. She had been stupid to send him those texts earlier - she was being too clingy.

Emma looked down into her drink and played with the cherry’s stem. “You don’t want to have sex with me.”

“What? No, I do. I really like doing these things with you. It feels good and I like making you feel good.”

“Then what did you want to talk about?”

“The thing is Emma, I -“

Just then Mr. Weston appeared in excitement, pushing open the deck’s sliding doors. “Oh good! I’ve been looking for you two. We’ve had a surprise - Frank just showed up. He was invited and then we didn’t think he could make it. But he’s here after all! Come back inside and say hello.”

“Frank?,” said Knightley, his mouth set in a firm line. Emma looked at him strangely, but he looked away. They reluctantly followed Mr. Weston back inside. Knightley took her wrist for a moment, like he was going to hold her hand, but then he let go. She tried not to focus on it.

Mr. Weston brought them to a tall, young man with short brown hair standing in the middle of the living room. He was handsome, as Anna had always said, in a bit of a roguish way with deep-set eyes and a sharp face. He was dressed in a black polo shirt, dark gray chinos, a chunky gold watch and a bomber jacket like Knightley - though Frank’s was a caramel suede material. He was sipping from a neat glass of Scotch.

“Frank this is Emma, she’s Henry’s daughter and I think you met once a long time ago. And this is George, he’s -”

“Ah yes. I’m quite familiar with George Knightley. We know each other very well,” said the tall boy, inspecting Knightley with a critical eye. Knightley just stared at him with a clenched jaw.

This shocked Emma. She had known they had gone to college together - but they knew each other _well_?

“Oh really?,” asked Mr. Weston with delight, oblivious to the tension between the two younger men.

“Frank was at Stanford while I was there. We had a few classes together.” said Knightley flatly.

“Oh! I didn’t know that. Oh then you must have so much to catch up on.”

“Quite,” smirked Frank.

Anna appeared then and Mr. Weston was dispatched to the kitchen to bring out more food. That left the three young people to remain in an awkward silence while Knightley and Frank seemed to be speaking telepathically and Emma wondered if she might rather talk to Elton again - it would be more fun than this.

“Well - Knightley....I haven’t seen you in ages. What have you been up to?”

“I’m a grad student,” said Knightley, picking at the label on his beer.

“He’s being modest,” cut in Emma, “He’s a PhD candidate in environmental engineering at MIT.”

“Oh wow. Impressive,” said Frank, though he didn’t sound impressed at all. “What do you do Emma?”

“I’m a senior at Yale - I study theatre.”

“Now she’s being modest,” smirked Knightley, happy to not talk about himself, “She’s a very talented costume designer.”

Frank smiled politely. “So are you two together?”

“Oh - no,” said Emma quickly, “Best friends.” She could feel Knightley frowning at her but she didn’t turn to look at him.

“Ah.”

At that moment William and Campbell, high school friends of Knightley’s, arrived and the boys converged on him. 

“I’ll see you later?,” he said to Emma as he was led away, giving Frank one last disapproving look.

“Yeah - I’ll text you if I can’t find you.”

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips, and was gone.

***

Emma ended up chatting with Frank a while longer. He was _definitely_ handsome and charming. But there was something about him that seemed a little surface level - like he was always smirking at a joke you weren’t aware of. He kept her for a good long while after Knightley left and she couldn’t deny that she found his attentions flattering. Eventually they ended up on a small settee where he talked her into showing him photos of her nieces and nephews.

“That’s Hank, he’s the oldest. He’s named after my father, Henry. And that’s John Jr., we call him Johnny, and there’s the twins Bella and Little Emma - George thinks it’s funny to call her that but we really all just call her Emmy. And this is the baby, Jordy - he’s actually a George too.”

Frank smiled at her as she tilted her phone up for him to see. “Is everyone in your family named after someone else in the family?”

Emma laughed lightly. “Well we _do_ tend to use a lot of old family names. George was named after his father. And his father before him and so on.”

“You spend a lot of time together.”

“Me and George?,” said Emma looking up, “Of course - I mean he’s one of my best friends and we grew up together. And we’re family now, because of our siblings. I’ve known him since the day I was born.”

Frank turned his body more fully towards her. “He’s lucky - having you all this time.”

Emma almost asked him what he was implying, but his eyes flashed something dangerous that made her turn the conversation back to safer territory. “So - is your father not a Frank?”

“No - my father’s name is Mr. Weston.”

Despite herself, this made Emma laugh - surprised that Frank was aware that most people in their town referred to his father as “Mr. Weston” or just “Weston.”

Frank laughed with her, looking less mysterious when he was smiling authentically. “I’m joking - his name is _actually_ Bill. I don’t know where they got the name Franklin from.”

Emma genuinely enjoyed talking to Frank after that, the uneasiness caused by the stand-off with Knightley now lifted. Eventually Mr. Weston appeared and whisked his son away to introduce him to the Coles. Emma wandered around the rest of the party, nibbling on blini and smoked salmon. She found Harriet and the two played a few rounds of _Quiplash_ in the TV room with Missy and Will. Emma hoped Knightley would find them and join in, but when she got up to get another drink she spotted him talking with Augusta Hawkins against a bookshelf.

Emma had always found Augusta terribly annoying but Knightley, ever the gentleman, seemed to be enjoying his chat with her. He was chuckling at things she said and she kept getting closer to him and touching his chest and arms. Emma frowned at herself for feeling... _disappointed_. Knightley could flirt with other girls if he wanted - they weren’t _actually_ together. Hadn’t she just told Harriet that it might be time to finish what she started and return her friendship with Knightley to normal? Emma went to the bathroom to cool her face and spend a moment alone. If a tear leaked out of her eye, she was the only one to know.

Stepping out into the hall, she bumped directly into Frank. “Oh! I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry - I saw you come back here and I was hoping to catch you.”

“You were?,” said Emma, leaning against the wall. She thought of Augusta and Knightley and placed an experimental hand on his arm.

Frank pressed into her and she had to crane her neck up to see him - he was very tall. “If I had known how cute you were I would have been spending more time at my father’s.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yes I am,” he pressed his hand against the wall and leaned down. Emma was trying to decide if she should let him kiss her or duck out from beneath his arm when she heard someone clear their throat.

“Emma,” it was Knightley with a steely gaze fixed on Frank.

“Ah Knightley - you really do have impeccable timing.”

Ignoring Frank, Knightley turned to Emma, his cheeks aflame. “Uh... Harriet was looking for you.”

“Oh okay - thank you.”

He nodded curtly and walked away.

“He’s never liked me," sighed Frank.

He had leaned back upon Knightley’s arrival and it gave her the opportunity to leave. “I - uh, I have to go find Harriet.” She hurried away before he could say anything else.

But Emma did not find Harriet - in fact she didn’t even try. She scanned the party, searching for Knightley. Eventually she found him pacing in the Weston’s back garden. Hands stuffed deep in his pockets. She went out to him, shivering without her coat on.

“Why do you hate Frank so much?”

Knightley paused in his pacing to look at her. “I don’t hate him.”

“It’s very obvious that you do.”

“I find him intolerable - he’s a vain and shallow poser. He has very few substantial qualities.”

“Aren’t you being a little harsh? He’s in a situation where he hardly knows anyone except his father.”

“You don’t know him like I do Emma.”

“Fine, okay. I’m just surprised that you feel this strongly about him because you’ve always told me you hardly knew him at all.” Emma made to turn away but was stopped by Knightley groaning loudly as he rubbed a hand down his face.

“Emma...Emma wait. The reason I don’t like him is because in my last year at Stanford I walked in on Frank and my girlfriend sleeping together.”

“Girlfriend?,” said Emma, her brow furrowing.

He nodded. “Jane. We were only together that final year. But it was so new and ended so abruptly that I never really had a chance to tell anyone. I told John when I ended things with her because I was upset and needed someone to talk to - but that’s all.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. This is such a mess. I stupidly thought I would never see him again.”

“No it’s okay - I just wish I had known.”

“Can we talk tomorrow? I think I’m just going to go for a walk to clear my head and then go home.”

“Yeah - okay,” said Emma, her voice wavering against her will.

He looked at her in what Emma interpreted as a pitying way. “Can you get home okay?”

“Harriet’s staying over.”

“Oh, good.”

They stood there silently. Emma felt like she was holding a dam of tears inside her that would break any minute.

“Goodnight, Em. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” she replied with a weak smile and then turned away like she was happy to rejoin the party. She found Harriet and told her that she wouldn’t be going to Knightley’s after all.

She spent the rest of the party next to Harriet, occasionally putting on a cheerful face to chat briefly to an old acquaintance. Frank found her again and she was happy to see him. Or rather, she was happy to have his _attention_ on her. He played a very silly game of charades with Emma and her friends - everyone largely drunk and giddy. At around one in the morning she asked him, “Are you staying here tonight?”

“Yeah, they made up the guest room.”

Emma paused, meeting his eyes. “You know, I’ve never seen the upstairs of this house.” No one noticed them slip away.

Kissing Frank was... _fine_. He used too much tongue and the way he fit against her didn’t feel entirely right. As soon as they had gotten to the guest room he pushed her against the wall and kissed her fiercely. He was passionate to be sure - but it wasn’t like when Knightley kissed her. She had kissed him dozens of times by now, and every time it filled her belly with butterflies like it was the first time. Even his softest, sweetest kisses could make her want to melt into a puddle of needy desire. So she kissed Frank - but in truth she got bored after a few minutes. If she did it in order to wound Knightley, it was a wasted effort as she found the encounter dull enough to never want to tell anyone of its existence.

He tried to tug her towards the bed and she got as far as standing between his legs while he sat down. She decided she had had enough when he started smoothing his hands up the back of her thighs, aiming to get under her dress. She stepped back and said that she should find Harriet - that they had promised Emma’s father that they would be back before 3am (a lie).

“I’ll be here for another week or two - can I get your phone number?,” asked Frank, handing her his phone.

Emma hesitated for a brief moment and then programed her number. She quickly returned downstairs, collected Harriet and the girls went home.

Later, in Emma’s bed, Harriet whispered, “What happened with Knightley?”

Emma closed her eyes. “He was too tired.” Then she turned on her side so Harriet wouldn’t see her cry herself to sleep.

***

In the middle of the night, while Harriet was still asleep, Emma went to Knightley’s Facebook page. He barely used it, keeping it mainly to see photos of John and Isabella’s children and to stay abreast of MIT events. After taking a moment to _not_ stare wistfully at his profile picture, Emma went to his Friends section and searched the name “Jane.” It was very easy to find her, being the only Jane he was friends with - Jane Fairfax. Emma was briefly surprised to see her there - but then she realized it was an _extremely Knightley_ thing to remain Facebook friends with his college girlfriend who had cheated on him five years prior.

Emma scrolled through what she could see of Jane’s page, taking in that she was a fairly popular indie folk singer in Seattle. A quick Google search yielded that she had been a child piano prodigy and that she was an orphan, like Knightley. She was also _beautiful_. Every image of her showcased her wavy dark hair, artfully messy eyebrows and soulful eyes. Emma looked through every photo of Jane she could find until she found the one photo she was looking for and hoped didn’t exist.

On a Stanford admissions blog dedicated to profiling exceptional students she found a post from 2015 covering a piano concert by one Jane Fairfax. The last photo in the post was of a beaming Jane, standing in front of a grand piano in a black dress and holding a truly _massive_ bouquet of white lilies. Next to her stood a floppy-haired man kissing the side of her head proudly while he wrapped an arm around her. The photo was a little blurry and had been taken at a distance, but Emma would have been able to tell who the man was from a mile away. The photo’s caption read _Bachelor of Arts in Music major Jane Fairfax and boyfriend._

It was George Knightley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the novel, Mr. Knightley is technically a "gentleman farmer" so I wanted to find a profession/program at MIT that was closest to that - so environmental engineering it is! But if you look it up it actually does sound like something Knightley would be interested in - wanting to protect human health and the quality of our environment.
> 
> Another reference to Mr. Knightley's farming origins is the "cider-y" aftershave he wears in this chapter. In the novel he owns extensive grounds and farms, including apple orchards.


	7. I'll Speak Love's Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Badly done, indeed!

By nature, Emma Woodhouse was a heavy sleeper. So she did not notice when Harriet slipped out of bed in the early afternoon and crept downstairs. Upon waking up herself, and finding Harriet missing, Emma ventured downstairs and was shocked at hearing _several_ voices emanating from the kitchen. Coming to stand in the doorway, Emma looked on an irregular scene. For there with Harriet - was Knightley! They were chatting cheerfully and making breakfast.

“Emma!,” called Mr. Woodhouse from the kitchen island. She jumped slightly, reeling at the fact that her father was _also_ there.

“Darling did you just get up? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Sir, it was New Year’s Eve last night,” interjected Knightley, not turning from the stove.

“Oh - yes, yes. That’s right,” said Mr. Woodhouse thoughtfully and returned to his paper.

Emma padded over to Harriet, who was cutting up a bunch of mint. “What’s going on?”

“Hello my sleeping beauty,” said Harriet sunnily. 

“We’re making your favorite breakfast, Emma” said Knightley.

“Lemon blueberry pancakes, bacon _and_ pork sausages, and -”

“- Melon salad on the side because it makes everything else soggy,” finished Knightley with a smile.

Emma stared at them. “Why…?” she asked cautiously, directing her question at Knightley.

He caught her eye but it was Harriet who answered first. “Do I have to have a reason to make New Year's Day breakfast for my best friend and her lovely father?” Harriet shared a smile with Knightley after that, which made Emma realize that Knightley’s being here was probably no coincidence.

In an effort to conceal her awkwardness at seeing Knightley after spending the whole night dreaming of him fucking Jane Fairfax while she watched, Emma began cutting up the limes for the green melon salad. When Harriet went to the stove to start the sausages, Knightley took her place next to Emma.

“Em, could we talk after breakfast?,” he asked, low enough so that her father wouldn’t hear.

She nodded her assent quickly. Then he squeezed her arm and turned to her father to ask him if he wanted to watch a rugby game while they finished cooking.

Breakfast was delicious - it really _was_ her favorite. But she found herself picking at her plate and barely speaking unless asked a direct question. Afterwards, as Knightley and Harriet had made the food, she had an excuse to disappear into the kitchen with her father to clean up. She saw her friends exchange a wary look before she slipped out. 

When every dish had been loaded into the washer and she had run out of counters to wipe down, Emma had to face the fact that she could no longer avoid Knightley. She didn’t really have a choice either - for Harriet had corralled Mr. Woodhouse into the den and was attempting to explain what Eurovision was while showing him videos of Norwegian teenagers singing and dancing while jets of fire burst around them. Emma locked eyes with Knightley and then turned, walking quickly to the sunroom on the other side of the house. Knightley followed and shut the door behind him.

“Emma, last night -”

“Did Harriet text you?”

He played with his hands. “Yes - she said you seemed upset and asked if we had fought.”

She sighed, closing her eyes.

“I’m so sorr -”

“It’s okay George, really. It was too much, I understand. I’m really not angry or anything. Maybe a little embarrassed if anything.”

He stepped closer, raising an eyebrow. “Embarrassed?”

“Well...I looked her up,” she cringed. Why was she admitting this?

“Jane?”

“Yes,” said Emma, “She’s so...accomplished...and beautiful. I was...a little jealous.”

He was silent. _Oh god. What have I done._ Emma felt _so_ stupid. She had basically admitted to Knightley that she had a crush on him. In an attempt to cover this reveal up, she started to backtrack.

“The piano? I - I can see why you were with her. Very good playing. Though I don’t understand why she’d cheat on you with Frank. I mean, he’s fine but -”

“Emma,” yelped Knightley, surging towards her. “I can’t -”

Suddenly they were hit with a wave of warm air as Mr. Woodhouse opened the door to the icy sunroom.

“Emma please come back, I can’t take any more of these singing competition videos. And how many times have I said not to come in here during the winter? I’ll get the thermometer…”

  
  


Emma tried not to be alone with Knightley after that. If he came over for dinner, she made sure her father was there the whole time. If he asked her to hang out, she brought Harriet along. He barely texted her anymore, but if he had tried to bring up anything to do with what was said in the sunroom she would have lied and said his messages weren’t coming through. She didn’t even care if they went all the way anymore - she couldn’t bear his ultimate rejection. It was better to keep him at a distance until winter break was over or, even better, she could return to school early. But in all the kissing and fretting and _Frank_ , Emma had somehow managed to forget about Knightley’s approaching birthday on the 5th. John and Isabella would be coming back for dinner and cake at the Woodhouse's.

On the day of the party Emma dressed simply in black tights and a navy blue mini-dress with a high neckline and front pockets. She hesitated before putting on Knightley’s locket - ultimately deciding that she would look suspicious without it, having worn the necklace every day since he had given it to her. She spent the rest of the day pacing around the house and it distressed her father so much that he had to take a mid-afternoon anxiety nap.

Knightley arrived at the same time as John and Isabella and spent much of the night humoring their children or talking about soccer with Mr. Woodhouse. She thought she’d be able to escape the night without having to be alone with him but Knightley found her during dessert, while she was attempting to balance two-year old Emmy on one knee and a plate of banana pudding cake on the other. Unable to run away from him, Knightley was free to sit beside her and lift Emmy onto his own lap. John, Isabella, Mr. Woodhouse, or any of the other children were curiously absent.

“Tell your aunt, Little Emma, that if she no longer wants to continue our...playdates, I will understand,” said Knightley, looking not at the child but Emma herself.”

Emma snorted. “Tell your uncle, _Little Emma_ , that she does want to play. She just wanted to give him some space.”

“Tell your aunt that he doesn’t need space and would be happy to take her on any surface available.”

Emma blushed, looking down at Emmy who was obliviously playing with a napkin.

“We don’t have to rush it,” murmured Knightley.

“I know - but I do want to do it before winter break ends.”

He nodded. “Whatever you want.”

“Tonight?”

He inclined his head, looking at Emmy’s downy hair. “Little Emma...tell your aunt that I will leave the door unlocked and she can come over whenever she wants.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Oh _fuck_!”

Knightley was gripping Emma’s hips tightly, holding her down as she writhed against his mouth.

“Mmm I’m so close…”

Emma had initially balked when Knightley invited her to sit on his face, but upon further _inspection_...she discovered that it was entirely delightful. With a few more twists of her hips she came, falling against the headboard as Knightley’s soft tongue worked her through the aftershocks. Then she fell back on the bed as Knightley sat up and grinned at her while wiping off his face.

“Good?”

“ _Great_ ,” said Emma emphatically. 

He laid down next to her and started kissing her neck. Emma ran her hands down his back and felt his hard cock press against her thigh.

“George...can I go down on you?”

He pulled away. “You want to?”

“Yes...I _did_ forget to get you a birthday present after all.”

He laughed, cradling her neck. “Well, if you insist.”

She turned him over, scooting down near his thighs. He watched her quietly as she took him in her hand and then sucked the tip into her mouth. He groaned at that, squeezing his eyes shut and fisting the bedsheets. She stayed like that for a moment, just sucking on the head and stroking him. He tasted _good_ , like clean skin and a salty sweetness.

“Is it okay?,” she asked tentatively.

“Yeah, yeah...can you...take more? In your mouth?”

She did as he asked, taking it all the way and moaning around him. He was getting harder and she saw his abdomen tensing.

“Oh fuck,” he panted, “Emma I’m gonna come.”

“Mmm in my mouth?”

“ _Fuck_. You want me to?”

She nodded and started sucking him harder. Suddenly he stilled - then he was coming, shouting and bucking into her face. He grabbed her thigh and threaded his other hand through her hair gently. She swallowed it all - surprising both him and herself at such precision for a first-timer. He sat up quickly after that, pulling her to his lap where he curled his fingers inside her to rub at her g-spot. He made her come over and over like that until he was hard again.

Emma rocked against him, gripping his hair. “George…” she moaned as he sucked on her nipples.

“I can’t wait to fuck you,” he sighed.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking about it all week, Em.”

He rolled her over, moving between her legs and cupping her face. They rocked together for a moment, savoring the feeling of skin against skin. Knightley stroked her hair and kissed her languidly. “Let me get a condom.”

She stopped him. “I have an IUD - for cramps.”

Knightley stilled above her.

“I want to feel you,” she whispered.

He looked in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said, wrapping her legs tighter around him.

“I want to feel you too,” he sighed.

He kissed her deeply as he lined up to her entrance. She felt him start to push in. He _was_ quite thick and the stretch burned even though he was barely inside of her.

“Oh! Ow, _ow._ It hurts,” she whimpered.

He kissed her forehead, pulling out again. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll go slower.”

She nodded and he kissed her again. He began rubbing her clit lightly to get her wetter and it had her moaning into his mouth. She was about to beg him to fuck her when her phone went off, the unmistakable sound of the Spice Girl’s “Wannabe” filling the room.

Instinctively they both looked up and saw “Frank Churchill” flash across the screen.

Knightley sat back on his heels. “Why is Frank calling you?”

“I don’t know.”

“He has your number?”

“I gave it to him at the New Years Eve Party.”

“Why?,” asked Knightley sharply.

“I don’t know - we were talking, we kissed and he asked for it. He’s here for another week and we’ve been texting a bit.”

Knightley’s mouth opened in shock. “You kissed him?”

“Yeah...”

“When I found you outside the bathroom?”

“No it was after you left. Why do you care?”

“You kissed him after what I told you?”

“I was lonely and he was there.”

Knightley stared at her. 

“You weren’t going to bring it up,” he said blankly - it wasn’t a question.

“Why would I?”

“Because I don’t like him, for reasons I made _perfectly_ clear to you that very night. And then you kissed him after you said you were ready to have sex with me?”

“You left!”

“Yes - and I hate that I did and I apologized and you said it was fine!”

“Why are you getting so upset? You’ve been with _fourteen people_. Besides Frank, I’ve only kissed you - I’ve really only ever been with _you_!” she cried, more forcefully than she expected.

They were silent as they looked at each other. Knightley was still on his knees in front of her, fully hard and glistening with her fluids and she was still spread out before him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he said, “Emma, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad for kissing someone else. What we’ve been doing -”

“Is friends with benefits, yes I know. I asked you to help me, as a _friend_. This is casual.”

He was silent.

Emma scrambled off the bed and began to grab her clothes. “I don’t think I want to do this tonight. I want to go home.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said wearily, rubbing his forehead. “I have to get up early anyway. Someone’s coming tomorrow to look at the house.”

Emma stilled as she finished pulling her dress down. “Wait, why? Who?”

“A realtor - I’m thinking of selling it.”

“Since _when_?”

“Well if you ever paid attention you would have known that John and I talked about it during Christmas.” He was up now and had pulled his underwear back on along with a pair of gray sweatpants.

“But why would you sell?”

“Why not Emma? It’s my house. I can do whatever I want with it. I’m only here maybe three months out of the year and it’s _lonely_. There’s nothing for me here.”

“What are you talking about? This is your _family_ home!”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“Don’t treat me like a child!” They were downstairs now and Emma was standing with her back to the door.

“Go home, Emma.” 

“Whatever - maybe I’ll call Frank back.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “You say you don’t want to be treated like a child - but you act childish. You’re so spoiled and wrapped up in your own world that sometimes you don’t notice what’s going on in other peoples’ lives. Did you know that Harriet and Rob are planning to move in together? Or that Anna is studying to get her GRE? Maybe you would have - if you cared enough to listen. You kissed someone who hurt me deeply and then acted surprised that I would mind. Well done Emma - _spectacular_ job.”

Emma opened the door and left after that - she didn’t want him to see her cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:
> 
> I think that Knightley is definitely a Capricorn and Emma is certainly a Taurus. 
> 
> I promise this will be the last time they’re interrupted before Knightley can profess his feelings - I just wanted to adhere to the rule of threes re. the interruptions.
> 
> I had a hard time modernizing the “badly done” speech - finally I decided that a sarcastic “well done” would have the same effect.
> 
> Lastly, green melon salad is a real thing my mother makes - it’s honeydew melon, mint, lime juice, lime zest and a tiny bit of simple syrup.


	8. Sing Through April's Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've been 'fraid of changin'  
> 'Cause I've built my life around you

Harriet Smith did not consider herself particularly interested in matchmaking - that was more Emma’s hobby. She took credit for encouraging the relationship of Anna and Mr. Weston as well as introducing Harriet herself to her boyfriend, Robert Martin. Nevertheless, it had been one of her greatest hopes that Emma and Knightley would someday pause their bickering in order to fall in love. She thought her two friends were perfectly matched - both strong-willed and stubborn yet utterly loyal and kind. Knightley challenged Emma and encouraged her passions while Emma brought out a softer, more joyful side of Knightley and seemed to bring him great peace. Harriet thought it was all coming together when Emma revealed to her that she had started hooking up with Knightley. Alas, it seemed that Harriet would have to play cupid more than she would have liked.

On the night of January 9th Harriet’s mother went to her weekly pottery class and left her daughter home alone. The young woman in question was planning to spend a leisurely night doing face masks, painting her toenails, and eating ramen noodles. Feeling spontaneous, she picked up her phone to call her boyfriend. He took so long to answer that Harriet briefly assumed he had fallen asleep after work. Eventually she was greeted with an out of breath, “Hi baby.”

“Hey! Did you want to come over? I was thinking of watching _Strictly Ballroom_ ,” said Harriet, putting her phone on speaker and moving it out of the path of a potentially dangerous collision with a bottle of OPI in “Bubble Bath.”

“Uhhhh...actually I’m kind of in...a situation,” came the slightly stressed voice of Rob.

Harriet grabbed her phone and stood straight up. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you?”

“No - sorry! Everything’s fine. I’m okay.”

“Oh good,” said Harriet, sitting back on the sofa and clutching her heart. Pulse rate having returned to normal, Harriet was able to focus for the first time on the _very loud_ music bleeding out of her phone. Specifically, it was Death Grips’ “I’ve Seen Footage.”

“Rob are you at...a party?”

Rob sighed. “No - I’m at Knightley’s. It was either this or some really sad Fleetwood Mac. Like a live version of ‘Landslide’ where she dedicates it to her Dad. I just...couldn’t do it Harriet.”

“What?”

“Um - so - I’ll backup. I was at the bar and Knightley came in to play pool. I talked to him for a little bit, made him a drink - normal stuff. But then he just kind of...stayed. Like he was still there when my shift ended - and he had been drinking the whole time.”

“Oh no,” whispered Harriet, her mind flashing immediately to Emma’s stony silence after the New Years Eve party and to her awkward interactions with Knightley the next morning.

“Yeah...so I was like ‘Hey can I give you a ride home - I don’t think you should be alone right now.’ And he was like ‘Okay,’ so we left.”

“Didn’t your shift end at six?”

“...I’ve been here for three hours.”

“Rob!,” screeched Harriet.

“I didn’t want to leave him alone! He’s so sad…”

“Is he right there while you’re on the phone?”

“No I’m outside. I said I wanted to have a cigarette when I saw you calling. The music’s so loud because he has those Apple home things or whatever.”

“Rob...you don’t smoke...”

“He’s _really_ drunk Harriet - I think I could tell him anything right now and he’d believe it. All he does is look at his phone. He’ll start to type out a message, delete it and then throw it back down.”

“I think he and Emma had a fight.”

“Yeah I figured.”

Harriet blew out a deep breath. “Can you stay with him tonight?”

“Yeah of course - tomorrow’s my day off anyway.”

“Okay - thank you honey. I love you.”

“I love you too! He won’t tell me what’s going on - but if Knightley is _this_ upset I don’t think Emma is doing much better.”

“Yeah - I’m gonna drive over there right now.”

“Great - okay I’ll call you tomorrow. And, uh, maybe don’t tell Emma what I told you.”

  
  


***

Emma was trying to keep busy. Ever since the night of Knightley’s birthday she had risen at 7am, did yoga, cleaned, made her father breakfast, read, took a walk, made her father lunch, worked on a sewing project, opened up Knightley’s Facebook page and then immediately closed it, did yoga again, made her father dinner, and went to sleep at 9pm.

So yes...her days were very full.

But at night...she could no longer avoid the crushing sense of self-loathing that had persisted for days. Alone in her queen-sized bed, where she and Knightley had slept as children and where he had given her her first kiss, Emma let herself wallow. She cried and cried, thankful now more than ever that her father was on the other side of the house.

And she wasn’t just sad about Knightley - though he was the object of the majority of her tears. She had been such a bad friend to Harriet and Anna, _and_ she had been taking her family for granted. She barely spent any time with her father and she never called Isabella. What was wrong with her? Knightley was right - she _was_ selfish and spoiled. She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. She felt like she had no one to talk to about this. 

Just then, a soft knock came from the door and Emma sat up, tears still trickling down her face.

“Emma?,” came Harriet’s gentle voice. “Can I come in?”

“Harriet?!”

The door opened quietly and her friend stepped in. “Were you asleep? I’m sorry - I should have called first. I used the key under the clay mermaid.”

As soon as she saw Harriet’s cherubic face, Emma burst into a fresh wave of scalding hot tears. She threw herself back on the bed, clutching her pillow.

She felt the bed dip as Harriet sat beside her. “Emma - what’s wrong?”

“I - I’ve ruined everything,” she sobbed.

Harriet laid down behind her, stroking her hair and arms. “Please tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me.”

Emma rolled over, seeing the worry and anxiety in the other girls eyes. She explained to Harriet about Jane, kissing Frank at the party, trying to have sex with Knightley and the fight.

“Oh Emma…” sighed Harriet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think I could,” said Emma, new tears still coming. “I’ve been a bad friend to you too. I haven’t been spending enough time with you and I didn’t know that you and Rob are going to move in together.”

“It’s _okay_ \- I forgive you.”

Emma sniffled. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Do you want to sleep over this week? My mom misses seeing you and I can show you photos of the apartments Rob and I have been looking at.”

Emma nodded, reaching out to hug her friend tight. The girls fell asleep murmuring jokes and kind words.

***

Harriet went to Knightley’s the next day. She had breakfast with Emma at the local diner and drove her low-spirited friend back home. She then parked further down the street so that the Woodhouses wouldn’t see that she was still there. She took the long way around to Knightley’s house and saw Rob waiting on the porch. He came down to her as she approached, slipping on his Carhartt jacket.

“He’s in the kitchen. I gave him a lot of water and some aspirin and made him go to sleep at a fairly reasonable time, but he’s still pretty hungover,” he whispered, looking over his shoulder in fear that Knightley would catch them.

“Okay. I’ll see you later?” Rob nodded and they shared a brief kiss. Harriet slipped into the house quietly. Knightley was sitting at the small breakfast nook in his kitchen, hunched over a cup of coffee. He heard a creak as Harriet entered the room and looked up, surprised and confused to see her.

“Harriet?”

She sat across from him and gently placed a hot, foil-wrapped package next to his coffee. It was his favorite order from the diner - a pastrami, egg and cheese sandwich on an English muffin. He looked at Harriet for a beat and then whispered a quiet, tired ‘thank you.’

“I was just with Emma,” said Harriet as he bit into the sandwich.

He nodded, chewing slowly. 

“She’s very upset.”

He closed his eyes - pain and regret etching his face.

Harriet tilted her head. “You’re in love with her.”

He was quiet as he took a few more bites and then a sip of coffee. He looked out the window onto his vast backyard. Then he looked back at Harriet.

“Of course,” he chuckled roughly.

Harriet smiled beatifically then. “You should tell her.”

Knightley sighed and shook his head. “I yelled at her. I made her cry.”

“I know.”

“I called her spoiled.”

“I know.”

A single tear tracked down Knightley’s face and he quickly wiped it away. “She wouldn’t want to be with me now.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Harriet…”

“What I _know_ is that she misses you very much. You never let her get away with saying something ignorant or mean-spirited, because you know that she’s better than that. I won’t let you get away with this now.”

Knightley looked up, shocked at the hardness in Harriet’s words and the fire in her eyes.

“If you don’t tell her that you love her and work with her to fix this - _even_ if she doesn’t love you like you love her - I will never forgive you.”

Knightley held her stare for a moment then let his gaze flicker down to the table. “Okay.”

Harriet sat back, satisfied with her work. She remained with Knightley for a while longer after that. He made her a cup of coffee and opened a can of Pirouline chocolate-filled wafers. The two talked of Knightley selling his house, Harriet’s thoughts of getting an MA in art education, and Rob’s dislike of Fleetwood Mac. They laughed and Harriet thought maybe, _maybe_ everything would be alright.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The version of "Landslide" that Knightley likes best](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5MLT8OVEoU)


	9. I Will Walk For Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features Knightley admitting to himself that he started having a crush on Emma when she was sixteen/seventeen and he was twenty-one. If that makes you uncomfortable, I would recommend skipping to the end of the chapter where it says "December - A Year Prior"

After Emma left his house on the verge of tears - after he had almost been inside her and after he had scolded her - Knightley went upstairs and stoically put himself to bed. The next day he tidied the house to the best of his ability and met with the realtor. The meeting was pleasant and reassuring - he felt confident that they would be able to sell the house within the next few months and that he wouldn’t have to be there for it.

Having completed all his current responsibilities, he spent the next few days lying on his couch and smoking weed shirtless in pyjama pants. He barely ate, he slept badly, and everything reminded him of Emma. There on the fridge was a photo of them hugging at his college graduation. A sweater she knit him was thrown over a chair. He started sleeping in John’s old room - too afraid to touch his parent’s room and too haunted by memories of Emma clutching him as she came all over his own bed.

Even the ashtray he was using made him think of Emma. As it was actually a plate she had painted for him when she was six years old. It said “Tu Georgy I Lov U EmmA”, painted in a child’s wobbly handwriting and featuring a crude rendering of a sun, cat and some flowers. It used to make him smile - now it just made him want to cry. Which was why he was using it in the first place - he wanted to feel as awful as possible.

He still went on his daily walk - walking as much as two hours at a time now. He had always loved walking, it cleared his head and made him feel freer and more relaxed. He mainly thought of Emma on his walks - though he thought of Emma wherever he was. But he couldn't help passing by her house on his excursions, which only made him miss her further. Visions of her danced through his head constantly. Loving Emma, fucking Emma - holding her and eating with her and teasing her.

He didn’t know what to do. How could he tell her he loved her after everything? He always tried to be honest with her, but maybe this time he had gone too far. And it didn’t really matter if he told her or not. He had thought - _hoped_ \- that she might feel the same way after she expressed jealousy over Jane. But she had made it very clear to him that their arrangement was only casual. It probably didn’t help matters that he was so much older than her. Their age difference hadn’t seemed so prominent in recent years, but now he felt lecherous and creepy. She had been looking for a safe teacher and he had projected his emotions onto her inexperience. Now even their friendship was ruined.

Knightley could remember the first time he ever saw Emma. He was five years old. It was a few months after her birth and her parents had brought her over to the Knightley’s to meet everyone. She was so sweet and adorable, with round apple cheeks and big hazel eyes. He wanted to make her smile and laugh. But she started screaming her head off the second she was placed in his arms. He wanted her to like him, so he laid down next to her on the floor while she slept in her carrier. When she woke up and saw him there, she cooed lightly and stretched out a chubby hand. He took it - they had been inseparable ever since.

He had always known that she was beautiful - but it didn’t start to affect him until she was sixteen or seventeen. Combined with her intelligence, humor, and the comfortable rapport they already shared, he could no longer deny that he was attracted to her. It would have been entirely inappropriate to act on it then - and also _illegal_. He had never felt more happy to be at a school on the other side of the country. It was then that he began to date in earnest, wanting to love and be loved in return. His relationship with Jane had been intoxicating and ultimately devastating - after she broke his heart at twenty-one he was depressed for at least a year. He had little desire for sex and felt too vulnerable to open his heart again. Eventually he was able to start dating again, but by then he had no desire for a partner. He enjoyed sex with women and liked making them feel good, but he purposefully went out with people who were wrong for him or started relationships that would last three months at the most. He was dependable, but not demanding. He was there when asked but never sought anything in return. Ultimately, any woman who wanted a serious commitment from him quickly realized that he could not give her what she was looking for.

So he was incredibly surprised when he found himself falling quickly and deeply in love with Emma soon after they started hooking up. His attraction to her was still there, and when she asked him to have sex with her he was shocked and thrilled to learn that she was attracted to him in return. But the more she opened up to him sexually, the more he wanted to open up to her emotionally. She didn’t need him, but she trusted him and responded to his touch. She was as stubborn as him but she made everything feel grander and more fun. He knew everything about her and yet he _still_ wanted to know more. He felt his very happiness was tied to her happiness. 

After Harriet’s surprise visit - he knew he had to tell Emma how he felt. He had no hope that she would return his feelings, but if they were to ever be friends again he had to be honest. It wouldn’t excuse his behavior, but he hoped it would explain it. A part of him would die seeing her eventually fall in love with someone else but that was his own concern, not hers. He knew they would never be friends the same way again, but what mattered most was Emma’s happiness. His heart had broken before - he was content to let Emma break it now.

  
  


***

December - A Year Prior 

  
  


“You’ve made her too tall, Emma.”

Emma looked up from her sketch pad. “It’s a costume sketch George - it doesn’t matter how tall they are.”

He returned to his book, adjusting in his chair so that one leg was draped over the armrest. “Ah, my mistake then. I’m sorry for being unfashionable and ignorant.”

Emma hummed lightly, picking up a red colored pencil. “I heard that Frank Churchill might come to the Weston’s New Years Eve party this year.”

“He never comes Emma,” said Knightley, not looking up.

“It’s all very mysterious isn’t it.”

“Hmmm.”

“Well not to you - you actually know him.”

Knightley caught her eye. “I wouldn’t say I _know_ him. I know what he looks like. I know that he studied finance. That is all.”

“Well I hope he comes - it would make everything more exciting.”

Knightley scowled, setting his copy of _The Things They Carried_ over his thigh. “He’s invited every year. If he wanted to come, he would have come already.”

“You don’t know that - I heard his aunt is sick and needs a lot of help.”

“That may be true, but he hasn’t been a very good son. I know it hurt Mr. Weston deeply that Frank didn’t come to his wedding. He does not call, he does not send emails. Their relationship is complicated, I’ll acknowledge that, but his father has always loved and supported him. Frank should make a greater effort to visit.”

“George” sighed Emma, eyeing her father in the distance as he passed through the kitchen with a cup of tea and a hot water bottle. “You live alone and your brother is married. You don’t know what it’s like to have someone to depend on you for support.”

“I’ll remember that next time you want something from me - or want to pick a fight,” smirked Knightley.

Emma threw an eraser at his head then, but she could not help the smile that crossed her own face.


	10. Oh Blow The Wind And Come The Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Knightley have Big Dick Energy? Respectful Dick Energy? Sound off in the comments!

Emma could remember the very first time that she realized Knightley was attractive. It was the summer before her sophomore year of college and Isabella had rented a house on Cape Cod for them all to stay at. John and Isabella went down first with their children to set up and Knightley drove Emma and her father down separately. The ride was long and hot, but they made the most of it with snacks and good music. Mr. Woodhouse took a strong dose of motion sickness medicine and was asleep almost instantly, leaving Emma and Knightley with full control over the radio.

“Any big plans for the next few days?,” asked Knightley as they idled in traffic.

“Hmmmm,” said Emma as she opened an Arizona Iced Tea and handed it to him. “Well, I’ve been wanting to read more.”

He took a sip of the cold drink. “You’ve been wanting to read more since you were twelve years old, Emma,” he said.

She glared at him and he laughed. In retaliation she switched the music to a Top 50 station. He groaned, knocking his head against the steering wheel as she smirked and popped a handful of trail mix in her mouth.

He looked over at her. “Emma - are you eating _all_ the chocolate and pretzel pieces and just leaving the peanuts and raisins for me?”

“You like raisins.”

“You little sneak - I’ll get you back for that later.”

Emma smiled, meeting his gaze as she shoveled another handful of trail mix into her mouth.

They arrived at the vacation house in the late afternoon. The kids were antsy so Emma and Knightley quickly changed and took them down to the beach for a swim. Emma helped Hank float on his back while Knightley made a sandcastle with Johnny. They carried the boys back to the house when they got sleepy and put them to bed before joining the adults for dinner. John grilled seafood and they all sat around the table for a while, laughing and talking. Emma was doing dishes after the meal when Knightley came up to her and asked if she wanted to go for another swim before it got too dark.

Free from having to watch over the kids, they were now able to go deeper into the water and actually swim around. It was fun to swim with Knightley, he never swam off without her or demanded they do a race. And though he sometimes made vague threats of picking Emma up and throwing her into the water if she teased him too much, he never acted on them. They mostly just floated next to each other and talked, letting the water rock them.

They made a fire on the sand when they got out and sat around it for a while to dry off. It was dark now but there were still people out on the beach walking dogs or taking a leisurely stroll. Hank appeared and crawled into Emma’s lap, asking if they were making s’mores. Knightley had just gotten up to see if they had the ingredients in the house when a pair of women about Knightley’s age passed by and stopped. One woman had a stylish, short haircut and was wearing a bikini top and cut off jean shorts. The other was petite and curvy, dressed in a floral sundress with long, curly hair spilling over her shoulders.

“Hey,” said Short Haircut.

“Hey,” said Knightley, stopping hesitantly.

He proceeded to chat with the women for a minute and was friendly and obliging. They said they were new to the island and asked what restaurants were good to go to. He gave them a few recommendations and told them about some other nice beaches and swimming holes. 

“What’s your name?,” asked Floral Sundress as he started to turn away.

“Oh - George.”

That’s when Emma realized that the women were _checking him out_ and she suddenly saw him as they did. He was still in his swimsuit and shirtless, leaving every inch of his leanly muscled body exposed. His suit was short and tight, the navy blue of the fabric complimenting his lightly tanned skin. His abdomen muscles flexed when he talked and his smile revealed slight dimples. The firelight made his ocean-mussed hair look like golden honey. And there was something about the set of his eyes that was always a little... _seductive_ for lack of a better work. _Oh my god_ , thought Emma as Hank tried to bury her foot in the sand. _Knightley is hot_. 

“You’re staying here?,” asked Short Hair.

“Yeah, with my family.” He gestured to Emma and the women flashed her a brief smile and a half wave. They didn’t see her as competition, taking in her salty hair tangled by the sea and giant sweatshirt that reached her knees.

“We’re staying over there - a few houses down. See you around?,” asked Sundress.

“Sure, yeah - we’re here for a couple weeks.”

They said goodbye and Knightley turned fully to head into the house, which also allowed the women to check out his ass. They smirked with desire, meeting each other’s eyes before heading on their way. Emma blushed on his behalf. Knightley returned shortly afterward, bounding down the stairs with a bag of Kraft Jet-Puffed in his hands. He crouched next to Hank, who had successfully covered Emma’s entire right foot and shin in sand. 

“Hey look - we can do marshmallows,” smiled Knightley conspiratorially.

The seven year-old’s eyes widened and he grabbed the bag. “Yes! Can I do it?”

“Yes - you can do a few. But don’t get too close to the fire okay?” He found a clean-looking stick and showed the younger boy how to spear it through the marshmallow and how to hold it near the fire so that it got browned but not charred.

Hank now preoccupied with sticky sugar, Knightley sat back on the sand with Emma and stretched his legs out languidly. “Want me to make you one?,” he asked.

“George.”

“Yes I looked for chocolate. In the drawer _and_ the pantry. We can get some tomorrow.”

Emma looked at Hank, making sure he wasn’t listening, and then leaned towards Knightley slightly.

“Those girls were hitting on you.”

“What? No.”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Emma in a stage whisper. “When you walked away they were like this -” she made her eyes comically large and moved her whole head to scan his body like she was detecting metal.

He laughed, eyeing her with mirth and embarrassment. “Maybe,” he said.

“Did you think they were cute?”

“Um,” said Knightley as he drew a light pattern in the sand with his finger. “It was kind of too dark…”

“Mmmhmm,” said Emma, skeptical. “Sure.”

He shrugged, brushing some sand off his stomach and not meeting her eyes.

“If you play your cards right, you could probably have a threesome with them.”

Knightley’s mouth opened in shock and he stole a glance at Hank, who was oblivious. “Emma!,” he moaned, covering his face with his hands.

“It’s true!”

He snorted and then reached over to fix one of the strings on her hoodie. “That’s the last thing I want.”

  
  


***

  
  


Emma wasn’t feeling necessarily _better_ \- but she had felt worse. After Harriet’s visit on the 9th, she made a greater effort to focus on things that weren’t herself or her problems. She went to Harriet’s house and the girls lit candles that smelled like grapefruit and made ceramic tiles with Harriet’s mom. She convinced her father to go out more and the two went for walks, spent time at bookstores, and went to a play. Emma even called Isabella - asking if she could come visit during Spring Break. Her older sister was so caught off guard that she said yes and then immediately hung up.

One morning after breakfast, Emma went to the Weston’s in order to spend time with Anna. Emma sat in the kitchen and watched the older woman while she worked on a new galette de rois recipe. It was a pleasant, pocket of a moment and Emma felt more than content to sit in blissful silence and sketch in the warm and fragrant room.

“George says you’re studying for the GRE?,” asked Emma, shading the delicate wings on a tiny fairy queen.

“Mmmmm, oh yes,” said Anna distractedly as she tasted the sweetness of the almond filling.

“Do you need help studying?”

Anna looked at Emma fully. “That would be lovely,” she said, smiling softly.

Emma smiled back, returning to her drawing.

“Emma?”

“Yes?”

“ _What_ is going on with you and Knightley? I went to his house for dinner last night and he was very quiet. I found an old photo album I made with photo of you, him, John and Isabella when you were all little and he almost cry the second I open it.”

Emma’s shoulders slumped. “We aren’t talking right now.”

“Why?”

“We kissed, and started doing... _things_ together.” Emma paused but Anna did not look surprised, only waited for her to continue. “I wanted to get more experience with sex and stuff. Then I kissed Frank and we had a fight.”

Anna sat in front of her with a cup of tea. “You kissed Frank?”

“Yes,” blushed Emma.

Anna’s face cracked into a smile, and then she was laughing uproariously. Emma frowned.

“I’m sorry,” said Anna, wiping her eyes. “I love him, but he is a ah...ladies’ man?”

“Yes, that certainly is _a_ word for it.”

Then, almost as if he had heard them talking about him, Frank appeared.

“Oh,” he said, taking in the sight of Emma and Anna together. “Hi Emma.”

“Hi.”

Anna went back to the kitchen counter and pretended to become very interested in puff pastry. Frank stood next to Emma’s chair. “Hey, uh, I’m leaving tomorrow, but I’d really like to see you again. I actually live pretty close to New Haven, if you wanted to hang out when you get back to school.”

Emma looked up at him. Though he towered over her he actually looked...a little vulnerable.

“Thank you for the offer - but I’m not really looking to date right now.”

He smiled tightly. “I understand.”

Mr. Weston entered the kitchen then and the two men departed, leaving Anna and Emma alone together again. As soon as the door closed, Anna came back to sit with Emma. “Why did you fight about Frank?”

“I don’t know if I should -”

“Oh, please. I won’t be scandalized.”

Emma swallowed. “When Knightley was a senior at Stanford...he found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him with Frank. I knew that and I still kissed him.”

Anna raised her eyebrow. “Why did you kiss him?”

Emma was silent and looked down at the table to play with her colored pencils.

“Emma, I have known you for years and years...I know when you feel a certain way. Happy, sad. I know you and Knightley have special relationship. Don’t let that go. If you fought, there is a way to fix it.”

Emma sighed. “Maybe.”

Anna patted her hand. Then she stood up to uncover one of the finished galettes. “Now,” she said, shaking a box of cleaned, antique porcelain doll heads and limbs at Emma. “Do you want to put in the baby? Whoever finds it has bad luck for the next year.”

“Anna, I’m pretty sure whoever finds it has _good_ luck!”

“Oh! Even better.”

***

Emma returned home later that afternoon and had a quiet nap with Perry on the couch. When she woke up she took her father’s car down to the fish shop to get them fish and chips for dinner. The rich, fried food doused in vinegar and lemon was like a balm to Emma’s soul. Even her father seemed in higher spirits.

“Emma, is Knightley alright? He hasn’t been here in a few days.”

Emma dipped a chip in some tartar sauce, not meeting her father’s eyes. “He’s been busy - he’s putting his house on the market.”

“Really? Oh, that is a real shame. It’s such a beautiful house. So many memories there.”

Emma nodded, crumpling up the oily newspaper her fish had been wrapped in.

After dinner, she watched CNN for a while with her father and then retired to her room at around 8pm. Not feeling quite tired enough for sleep yet, she decided to continue working on a sewing project she had started the previous afternoon. She had just moved her sewing machine onto her vanity table and sat down when she heard footsteps approaching. She looked up with a smile, assuming it was her father coming to say goodnight. 

Instead of her father, she was met with the sight of Knightley in her doorway. Her smile fell. If this had been any other time he might have strode in. Now he waited, like a vampire who couldn’t cross the threshold without being asked. But his invitation did not come, and they examined each other in silence. Eventually, Knightley spoke up.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure,” she said, turning back to her project. She heard him come closer, but she didn’t look at him.

“...Do you want to know why I’m here?”

“To be mean to me again?,” she asked sarcastically, threading the needle on her sewing machine.

He was behind her chair now, she could see his pants and part of his soft sweater through the reflection in her vanity mirror. 

“Emma - I came to apologize. I’m so sorry for how I acted last week. You can kiss whoever you want, it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay. Thank you,” she said tartly.

He crouched next to her chair, placing his hands on one of the armrests. He smelled _so_ good and she wanted to turn and look into his beautiful eyes, but she resisted.

“I was jealous, Emma. And stupid. And I may regret this, but I have to tell you something.”

Her blood rang in her ears at his words and her hands left the machine, settling limply in her lap.

“I’m not good at this. I’ve tried to tell you how I feel - seemingly thousands of times.”

She began to cry. Silent tears that she was able to hide with the curtain of her hair.

“I half expect my brother and your sister to pop out from behind the closet any moment,” he chuckled darkly.

She cried harder. Somehow he managed to pull her chair out and was now on his knees in front of her. “If I loved you less, maybe I could talk about it more. I thought I was being honest - but I really wasn’t. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“No,” wept Emma, though she did know.

“I’m in love with you, Emma. Very, _very_ much in love with you.”

She sobbed loudly, her hands covering her face as she tried to smother the sound. Knightley was on his feet again, stroking her hair and her arms. He whispered kind, lovely things to her and waited until she had settled down somewhat. Then he coaxed her out of the chair and moved to sit in it himself as he pulled her to his lap. He rubbed her back slowly and she leant her head against him as she cried more, drenching his sweater. Eventually she ran out of tears. Emma turned her head to look at him fully for the first time since he had arrived, and he looked back. She thought she must look awful - with red eyes and a face damp with snot and tears - but he stroked her cheek and looked at her like he had when she was naked in his bed and he called her beautiful.

“Please Emma...tell me what you’re thinking.”

She smiled a little, wanting to say _I’m not thinking - I’m listening for Santa_. Instead she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry too.”

He sighed into her hair, hugging her back. She pulled away after a moment, tracing his jaw with her thumb and looking him over. He seemed older than usual, with deep circles under his eyes. She placed her hand on his heart, feeling it beat steadily. “I love you," she said to his chest, "A lot."

“Yeah?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah.”

Then he was tilting her chin up and they were kissing. The tenderest, sweetest kiss they had shared yet. She could feel that he was crying too. They spent a long time there, just holding each other and talking. Eventually Emma started to yawn so much that Knightley made her get up and get ready for bed. He threatened to not cuddle her until she did so. 

When she came out of the bathroom, she saw that Knightley had pulled the covers out for her and was sitting on the bed. She padded over to him in an oversize Kylie Minogue t-shirt and a pair of comfy, high-waisted underpants. He smiled at her shirt, reaching out to touch the soft cotton of the hem. He brushed her thigh lightly when he did so and it made her vibrate with desire. He helped her crawl into bed and then tucked the blankets around her, leaning over to kiss her mouth softly.

“Will you stay?,” she whispered when he pulled back.

He shook his head. “Not tonight,” he whispered back sadly, stroking her hair.

“Will you come over for dinner tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

He leaned down for one last kiss that promised to become feverish if they weren’t careful. She looped her arms around his neck as he slid his hands under her back. He groaned into her mouth roughly as she played with his hair. Eventually he was able to pull away, biting her lip softly before parting.

“I love you Em.”

“I love you Georgie.”

He turned out the lights as he left and shut the door gently. She heard him tramp down the stairs, share a brief exchange with her father, and then he was gone.

Left alone in the dark of her room, Emma felt perfect happiness.

  
  
  
  



	11. All Is For My Maid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter today! The last chapter will probably be an epilogue of some sort. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the sweet responses to this story - I had so much fun working on it and will miss these characters. I may do more in the same AU in the future, but if not I will probably do some more George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse stories either in "canon" or in another AU.

“Yes!!!!!”

Emma pulled her phone away from her ear, alarmed at the volume of her friend’s voice.

“Jesus Harriet!”

“Sorry!! I’m just SO excited!”

Emma chuckled. 

“I just didn’t think it would take so long…”

“What are you talking about?!,” laughed Emma in bewilderment. “It’s taken our whole lives!”

“Oh no _no_ \- I meant it took so long for Knightley to say anything.”

Emma furrowed her brow. “What?”

“I might have...talked to him. A few days ago.”

“Harriet!”

“Well! You were just dancing around each other forever and then you had the fight. _And then_ Rob saw Knightley and he was super sad. That was the night I came over. I went to his house the next day.”

“Oh,” said Emma.

“Yeah - I’m glad I did it. You were both being so stupid!!”

The girls laughed together at that. Emma sprawled out on her bed, propping her chin in her hand. “Okay I have to get going - he’s coming over soon.”

“ _Oh_. Well in that case - make good choices!”

“Goodbye Harriet!,” smiled Emma, hanging up on her cackling friend.

Emma went to her closet to weigh her options for the evening. Truly she was too excited and anxious to care much about her outfit, but she couldn’t deny that she still wanted to look _good_. She changed into a light olive-colored short-sleeved shirtdress worn over a thin black turtleneck and sheer black tights. She braided her hair loosely and dabbed on some cream blush and tinted lip balm. She trotted downstairs and found her father in the library, letting him know that Knightley was coming over for dinner and that she was thinking of ordering shawarma.

“Is this some sort of occasion I’ve forgotten about?,” asked Mr. Woodhouse, lowering his book to peer at her over his reading glasses.

“No,” she laughed, “Just a normal dinner.” Then she darted away before he could ask her any more questions.

Knightley arrived at 6:00pm on the dot, looking _significantly_ more refreshed than he had the night before. Her father answered the door and she watched them greet each other from the safety of the kitchen. He was wearing a faded, black PJ Harvey t-shirt that had belonged to his Dad, a pair of dark green corduroy pants, and a very worn and soft-looking light wash denim shirt. She wanted to cuddle him on the spot. She couldn’t quite hear their conversation but she could tell Knightley had made a joke as her father gave a dry laugh. Then Mr. Woodhouse led the younger man into the dining room to make him an old-fashioned. Emma stayed in the kitchen, trying to decide when the right moment to come out was. She was still debating when Knightley appeared without warning. She turned back to the counter where she had _definitely_ not started a baking project right before he arrived for dinner.

“Why are you hiding?,” he whispered loudly from the doorway.

“I’m not hiding - I’m making cookies for dessert.”

He set his drink on the counter and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I feel like you’re always in the kitchen when you don’t want to see me.”

“Well, I learned it from Anna.”

He whirled her around. “You admit it!”

“No,” she said, placing her hands on his chest. “I’m nervous because I _want_ to see you so badly.”

He ducked his head a little as his hands slid up her back. “Why are you nervous?”

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Because I think we’re going to have sex tonight.”

He looked at her tenderly and then kissed her forehead gently. “We might - if that’s what you want.”

“I think so.”

He nodded with a small smile, like she had said she wanted to play Mario Kart after dinner.

“Come back to the living room,” he said softly, holding out his hand. She nodded and took it. He picked up his drink from the counter on their way out and took a sip.

“Jesus,” he grimaced, “I forgot how strong your father makes these.”

The pre-dinner chatter was pleasant and benign with Knightley and her father mainly discussing a new WWII book they were both reading. The food arrived and Knightley gave the delivery driver a large tip even though Emma insisted that she could do it. He just smiled at her and took the sacks of food inside. After dinner they gathered in the living room for tea and Emma’s last minute cookies - chocolate chip. “ _Oh_ , my favorite,” said Knightley, mischievously meeting her eyes when she brought them out. She just shrugged and set them down on the coffee table, hoping the living room’s dim lighting would hide her blush.

Emma curled up on the large, squashy couch with Perry and an interior decorating magazine while Knightley played a few rounds of chess with her father. She found the whole thing very calming and was almost completely relaxed - but she couldn’t help looking over at Knightley every few moments. And sure enough, when she looked, he was looking right back. They did this dance for a while. She would look up, catch his eye and then look away - then he would look at her and they would start the whole cycle all over again. Eventually Mr. Woodhouse made rumblings about watching the news and absconded to the den. But before he left the room she noticed him glance subtly between his daughter and her childhood friend. All this time Emma thought her father disappeared into the den to be alone - she realized now that he had sensed the gradual change in her and Knightley’s relationship over the years and was giving them space. 

Knightley rose from his chair when he was gone and Emma dropped her magazine. “Should we go upstairs?”

Knightley walked over and settled on the couch next to her. “Actually, I have something I wanted to tell you - some news. I’ve found someone to take the house.”

Emma couldn’t help but feel her heart sink at his words. “Oh? Who?”

“Rob and Harriet - Harriet wants to stay close to her mother and is saving up to go to grad school.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again.

“What?”

Knightley just smiled and nodded. He smoothed one of his thumbs over her knuckles and canted his body towards hers.

“I was just on the phone with Harriet earlier - she didn’t tell me!”

“She wanted me to tell you,” he said, picking up her hand to graze his lips against her fingers.

She blinked at him. “But how can they afford it?”

“I’m not selling it to them - I’m giving it to them.”

She frowned. “You’re not even having them pay rent?”

“No - I have more money than I need,” said Knightley, moving so that he was flush against her on the couch. He drew an arm around her and played with the hair at the nape of her neck.

She stared at him with a look of deep awe and admiration - he was the kindest and most generous man she had ever met. Yet...there was one thing that still bothered her.

“But...where will you stay during the holidays?, she asked, a little embarrassed to be doing so.

His eyes twinkled with mirth as he looked at her mouth. “I will come here,” he whispered.

She tilted her head at him, as if she had not heard him right. “So - you would rather give your home away then sell it?”

“Yes.”

“And stay in my room instead of having a whole house to yourself?”

“Yeah.”

Her lips twitched. “And live with my father for weeks on end?”

“Yep,” he said, like it was a simple choice. Like he was challenging her to disagree with him.

She allowed her mouth to break into a full smile then. Emma glanced at the doorway - her father was still in the den. Slowly she leaned into Knightley and he moved forward, clearly anticipating a kiss. But she shifted her head at the last moment and presented him with a sweet peck on the cheek. She pulled away, smirking at his wide, surprised eyes. He did nothing for a moment, then he closed his eyes and smiled like she had said something especially silly. Then he was turning her face back to his and kissing her soundly and tenderly. They stayed like that for a few moments, getting lost in the feeling of each other’s lips. Eventually their kisses grew more heated and Emma pulled away.

“Should we go upstairs now?,” she said, her statement tailing off into an uncertain question.

“Yes,” replied Knightley, his voice breaking in barely contained nervous excitement.

They started out of the room and walked quickly up the stairs to Emma’s room. As she had been getting ready earlier that evening, Emma had briefly imagined Knightley ripping off her clothes the second her door shut - but that was as far as the fantasy had gone. Now in her room, they stood staring at each other.

“Well, here we are,” she said, moving backwards.

Knightley looked at her and then suddenly he was upon her, sweeping her up into a scorchingly passionate kiss. They clung to each other and he tried to wrap her legs around his waist but miscalculated, taking them both to the floor. Emma laughed when her back hit the rug, but then Knightley was on her again and she needed all her air to kiss. They remained on the floor for a while, taking off pieces of clothing and murmuring endearments to each other. Then Knightley pulled her to her feet and hauled her against him, letting her feel how hard he was as he explored her mouth. She opened her eyes briefly when he moved his investigations to her neck and she caught a glimpse of them naked and pressed together in the reflection of her vanity mirror. With their blonde hair they could be mistaken for siblings - which _had_ happened on numerous occasions. But Knightley was not her brother.

She broke away from him and lowered herself to the bed. He followed her, chasing her mouth. They rolled around in her bed for a while, kissing deep and slow. He made her come a few times with his mouth and fingers, working on her until she was relaxed and giddy.

“George?,” she asked as she laid on her stomach, one cheek pressed into the mattress as he trailed a hand down her back and over the curve of her ass to her thigh and back again. “Can I be on top?”

His hand stopped and she rolled on her side to face him. “I think it might hurt less - the first time.”

He looked into her eyes and caressed her face before bending down to kiss her softly. “Okay.”

He moved back to lean against her headboard to wait for her. He was already rock-hard as she straddled him and that made warmth and desire pool in her stomach.

“I love you,” he whispered as he kissed down her throat to her chest.

She smiled into his hair. “I love you too.”

She positioned herself above him and then slowly, slowly sank down. It still hurt a little, and she whined as he stretched her, but the pain was soon replaced by an aching pleasure. He groaned a low and filthy sound as she took all of him and his hands rested lightly on her thighs as she adjusted.

“Does it feel good?,” she asked tentatively.

“Yes - you’re dripping all over me,” he sighed, closing his eyes as she started to rock back and forth on him. She did that for a while, becoming accustomed to the fullness until she needed more. Knightley helped her move then, coaxing her to ride his cock up and down. She liked it - moaning as he filled her again and again. One of his hands tangled in her hair and the other gripped her ass as she started to bounce harder and faster. He watched her hungrily.

“Can I touch you?”

She nodded and he licked his thumb before placing it on her clit.

“Oh,” she gasped, gripping his arm.

“Good?,” he breathed.

“Yes! Please - more!”

He rocked against her and pulled her close as he touched her breasts and hips. She moaned loudly and he encouraged it, whispering filthy things into her ear and rubbing her clit faster so that she would fall apart around him. 

“I can feel how close you are,” he panted.

“You can?”

He nodded. “I can feel your muscles tightening.”

She whimpered and ground down against him, making them both moan. With him pressed deep inside her and his fingers playing with her clit, Emma was losing control fast. She planted her hands on Knightley’s chest while her cunt spasmed around him as she came. He swore, feeling her soak his cock. Emma could feel him getting harder still so she continued to rock back and forth to bring on his own orgasm. His hands moved to her breasts and he watched her move over him like he still couldn’t believe this was happening. Then the spell broke and he pulled her down for another kiss.

“Can I come inside you?”

“Yes,” she moaned, sitting back to let him fuck her harder. Soon his thrusting slowed and he held her down on his cock while he came. They sighed and kissed, moving to lay in her bed to recover from their strenuous activities.

It wasn’t very late so they lounged and talked. Emma got her sketchbook and drew Knightley lying next to her on his side, his head propped up by a casual hand. He watched her quietly as she catalogued him, but his eyes tracked her every movement. As if he was ready to pounce the second she put down her drawing pad.

Emma smiled at him as he reached out to caress her ankle. “Do you remember when we went to Cape Cod a few summers ago?,” she asked as she shaded the right side of his face.

“I remember John got _incredibly_ sunburned. And I remember when you twisted your ankle on the rock beach and I had to carry you back to the house on my back because Isabella threatened to call an ambulance.”

Emma shut her eyes and groaned in mortification. “Oh god! I forgot about that. I was so embarrassed.”

“I liked it,” he said, boldly sliding his hand up her leg. “You were in a very small swimsuit, all wrapped around me. And you were _so_ quiet - it was nice to have some peace for once,” he said cheekily.

She whacked his arm with a pencil and playfully pulled her leg away from his hand.

“I’m joking,” he said gently as he reached for her again. Emma made a weak protest that she hadn’t finished her drawing but then he was rubbing her stomach and stroking her sides and suddenly she ended up between his legs, her back against his warm chest.

“I like talking to you, I like arguing with you.” He kissed her shoulder. “I like all the sounds you make.”

His hands had moved to her breasts and Emma could feel him growing hard again.

“I like when you moan when I touch you. And when you beg me to make you come.”

“George…,” she whimpered, tipping her face up to be kissed.

“Do you want me to make you come again?”

She nodded and gasped as he kissed her roughly. They both panted as he slid a hand down her stomach slowly. But Emma hadn’t finished asking her question.

“Do you remember the two women?”

He swept her hair to the side so he had more landscape of her neck to attack. “No.”

“When we had the fire on the beach two women walked by and you talked to them for a bit - they were checking you out.”

“Oh, I remember now,” he said into her hair. “You told me to have a threesome with them.”

“I said you probably _could_ have a threesome with them.”

The hand at her belly was on the move again, inching lower and lower. He groaned when he met the fresh wetness between her legs.

“That was the first time I realized how hot you were - because...because of them,” she struggled to say as he slicked his fingers with her arousal.

“Were you jealous?,” he whispered hotly into her ear.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “Not - not then,” she moaned as he started lightly rubbing her clit.

“I wanted you to be. God, I wanted you to be.”

She clutched his other arm now wrapped around her waist and rocked her pelvis into his hand. “You said you didn’t remember.”

“I lied.”

She whined with lust and he cut her off with a filthy kiss - then she was on her back and he was leaning over her.

He stared at her, his heated gaze full of disbelief and a tender yearning. “I wanted you for so long.”

She cupped his cheeks. “You have me now.”

He bent down to press fully against her, stroking her arms and legs and kissing her all over. Then he hooked his arms under her thighs so that she was folded beneath him.

“Is this okay?,” he murmured.

“Yes - please, I want you inside so badly.”

He pushed in slowly, letting her feel all of him.

“Mmm,” she sighed as he bottomed out. She felt so full - she could take him much deeper this time. She moaned this to him, gripping his hair, and he smirked.

“You like it?”

“Feels so good…,” she whispered drunkenly.

He started rocking into her, hitting that tender spot inside her. Soon enough Emma could feel herself start to come and she pulled him down for a kiss as he fucked her through it. After the first orgasm it was like the floodgates had opened and she came again and again in rapid succession. It wasn’t like a clit orgasm, which often felt like a full-body experience. This was like a deeper ache that warmed her from the inside. It felt just as sweet, but seemed to go on and on relentlessly.

“You’re coming so much,” he smiled into her neck.

“I-I can’t stop,” she gasped, clinging to him.

“Can you come for me one more time?,” he murmured against her lips.

She nodded frantically, moaning as he fucked her harder and faster. Then he grunted loudly and came deep inside her. Emma moaned as he filled her and then sighed as she came once more while he pulled out and thrust back into her a few times. She hugged him with her whole body as he stilled on top of her. He laid his head against her breasts and took a deep, relaxing breath like she was a soft pillow at the end of a long day.

“I can’t move,” he said drowsily.

“Hmm, then don’t,” she teased, stroking his hair.

Eventually he gathered enough strength to slowly pull away and made a sound of displeasure at having to leave her embrace. He went to the bathroom and got her a washcloth so she could clean herself. He looked at her shyly as some of his cum leaked out of her and she wiped it away.

“Ew, stop!,” she laughed when she caught his eye and he smirked. Then he pulled his underwear on and went to the guest bathroom to wash up. Emma changed into a fresh pair of underwear and then slipped on Knightley’s PJ Harvey t-shirt. She smiled - it smelled delicious, like cinnamon and clove and a little bit of vanilla. It smelled like him.

In her bathroom she washed her face and put her hair into a high ponytail before slathering on a thick, moisturizing face mask. When she came back into the room she found Knightley back in bed, her laptop balanced on his thighs. He glanced at her, taking in the white goo on her face. 

“The magic is gone,” he deadpanned to the computer screen. 

She chuckled, hopping up on the bed next to him. “Can I pick what we watch?”

He wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head as she settled against him. “I suppose so - you _did_ just lose your virginity and all that.”

She patted his stomach and left her hand there to soak up his warmth. “My thoughts exactly,” she said sleepily.

He smiled down at her and then his face lit up as he remembered something. He got up and found his crumpled pants on the floor. “Aha!,” he said, pulling out a Ziploc bag of her chocolate chip cookies from his pocket.

Her mouth dropped open at his incredible foresight. “You didn’t!”

“I knew we’d get hungry!”

They snuggled into her bed, munching on the cookies and browsing their streaming options.

“George?”

“No we can’t order meatball subs - you aren’t _that_ hungry.”

“Are you my boyfriend?”

He finished chewing and looked down at her. “Yes,” he said, then turned back to the screen and took another bite of his cookie.

“That’s all?!,” she cried.

His eyes twinkled. “Well I thought it was obvious with all the ‘I love you’ and ‘I love you too’ and the ‘Can I come inside you.’ ”

She laughed lightly. “It’s just that - you’re my first boyfriend. And hopefully, probably my last. But I’m not your first.”

He looked at her fully and shifted onto his knees. “Emma Jane Woodhouse,” he said, taking her hands and looking deeply, seriously into her eyes. “It would be my great honor to be your first, hopefully last, boyfriend.” Then he handed her a chocolate chip cookie like it was a diamond ring and broke into a full, slightly naughty smile.

“Perfect,” she said, smiling back and taking a bite of the sugary treat.

“Okay,” he said, guiding her to lean back against him. “Pick something for us to watch, my lady.”

She scrolled.

“Oh! _Killing Eve_?”

“Haven’t seen it.”

“George - _really_?”

“I never know what’s going on until you tell me.”

She nodded, her choice made. “We’re watching this. You’ll love it.”

She clicked on the first episode and snuggled closer to him, lulled by his gentle heartbeat and breathing.

“George?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“I do kind of want a meatball sub…”

  
  


***

  
  


Knightley did indeed remember the two women on Cape Cod. And he had seen them again - or at least one of them. 

He and Emma had gone on a day trip, just the two of them. If there was one thing that Knightley could not deny about his relationship with Emma, no matter how he felt about her, was that he could not resist indulging her in small pleasures. Though he was often the first to find fault in her, to argue with her and chide her cruelest impulses, he dearly loved to make her smile. To see her happy and content. So on that day he patiently drove Emma around the island to endless flea markets and antique stores - though he did slip away to a bookstore from time to time when the smell of mothballs became too overwhelming. He bought her bites of fudge and didn’t complain when she put on a playlist of exclusively Cyndi Lauper and Madonna songs.

Later that day, as they made their way back to the house, they passed a roadside taco truck and Emma pleaded with him to pull over. 

“Emma!,” he laughed, “You have a whole ice cream cone in your hand at this very moment.”

“So?,” she said as she sucked a rogue dribble off her thumb. “I can eat this and _then_ have tacos.”

Knightley rolled his eyes but he pulled off the road anyway.

They stepped into line and Emma read him the menu items out loud. He was glancing around the roadside area for a place to throw away the cup and spoon from his own ice cream when he locked eyes with a woman coming out of a store. It was one of the women from the beach a few days ago - the woman with long, curly hair. He quickly turned away, remembering Emma’s words about them hitting on him and _threesomes_ , but it was no use as the woman had seen him and was heading their way.

“What do you think?,” asked Emma, still squinting at the menu board.

“Whatever you want,” he said distractedly.

“I meant, what are you going to get?”

“Uh...I’ll have what you’re having.”

She arched an eyebrow at him and took another lick of her cone. “Okay - two orders of squash blossom tacos and two orders of lamb and cilantro tacos it is. Also I’m getting french fries.”

Knightley was barely paying attention. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the woman getting closer and closer. He would give anything to not be in this situation - not now and not in front of Emma. 

He glanced at the woman. He looked at Emma. Then, almost without thinking, he stood closer to her and casually slid his arm around her waist. She was unfazed, only turning her face up to smile at him before handing the cashier money for their order. When she turned back he caught her eye and ducked his head, taking a bite out of her ice cream. 

“Hey! Get your own!”

“Doesn’t taste as good that way,” he smirked.

She wrinkled her nose. “I thought you didn’t even like strawberry.”

“I don’t really.”

Emma gasped like a scandalized woman falling back on her fainting couch. He chuckled and leaned over to kiss the top of her head, lingering for a moment to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. When she turned back to the truck to grab their order, he took a furtive glance behind them. The woman was gone. He sighed with relief.

Part of him felt ashamed at using Emma to fend off an unwanted suitor...but another part of him secretly relished the idea of being seen as her boyfriend. Even if it was fake. It was the closest he would ever get to being the real thing.

He took the brown paper bags of tacos from Emma as they walked back to the car so she could finish the last few bites of her cone. He shook one of the bags lightly. “Did you say something about french fries?”

“Yes,” she said, sucking the last few drops of sweetness from the remnants of her waffle cone. “And no you can’t have any of mine - I got you your own.”

He smiled. “I love you.”

  
  


***

  
  


Emma and Knightley woke the next morning to some moderately loud knocking at the door. Emma lifted her head and noted the time was 8:30am. _Oh no_. She had completely forgotten that she had made plans with her father for that morning.

“Emma?,” came Mr. Woodhouse’s slightly worried voice. “Are you awake?”

Knightley was sitting up now and met her eyes. They didn’t have many options and his gaze briefly traveled to her closet as a potential hiding place.

“Should I get under the bed?,” he whispered.

“No, don’t!”

“Emma?,” came Mr. Woodhouse’s lament again.

“Just a min -”

The door opened before Emma could finish her sentence, revealing to her father that she was in bed with a shirtless George Knightley. Emma, thankfully, was clothed from the waist up in Knightley’s shirt from the night before. However, the fact that the rest of their clothes were scattered all over the floor did not help matters much. Knightley sank down slightly as if to hide himself.

“Ah, Mr. Knightley,” said Mr. Woodhouse, turning away but not leaving the room completely. “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you here.”

Knightley sank down even further like he hoped the bed might swallow him up. “Uh, sorry sir?”

“No matter - please have my daughter up and ready within the hour. I want to get to the bookstore early so we don’t have to interact with any day-tripping tourists or bored teenagers.” Then he shut the door and was gone.

Knightley closed his eyes in despair and collapsed, dragging a pillow over his face. “I feel like I'm going to die.”

  
“You won’t die,” said Emma, gently. “He’ll tell my sister and then she’ll tell John and then he’ll make fun of you about this until the end of time and _then_ you’ll die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drawing in bed scene is inspired by [Portrait of a Lady on Fire](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portrait_of_a_Lady_on_Fire) which I HIGHLY recommend watching if you have not seen it - it's now on Hulu.
> 
> [Knightley's PJ Harvey shirt](https://www.etsy.com/listing/666830006/pj-harvey-t-shirt-faded-black-tee-shirt?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=vintage&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=kate+bush+t-shirt&ref=sr_gallery-1-13&organic_search_click=1)


	12. My Queen Bee

Christmas Eve - Two Years Later 

  
  


“Can I do the star?”

Knightley grinned and ruffled his nephew’s hair. Then he crouched down, placing his hands on the boy’s waist.

“Alright Johnny, 1...2...3...here we go!” He hoisted his nephew onto his shoulders so that he could reach the top of the tree. Both giggled with delight as Johnny tried to find the right placement.

Emma leant against the doorway - she had been watching for a while. She always liked seeing Knightley play with their nieces and nephews, but now...the sight of him laughing and smiling as he tried to bring the boy closer to the tree did _something_ to her. Like a pang that she felt in her heart... _and_ her womb. But that was a hope she knew she wouldn’t be ready for until years and years later. Still, it made her indescribably happy to see her boyfriend like this. 

Deciding she’d had enough time savoring the moment, Emma stepped back into the room and turned to the armchair by the fire. “Hank? Do you want to do the cranberry garland with me?”

Hank glanced up from his book, nodded and then padded over to Emma to help her uncoil the garland. She looked up to see Knightley watching them before he caught her eye and smiled. Then he rolled his eyes playfully and she smirked. Hank had been sitting moodily in the armchair for a good while, ignoring the festivities and keeping to himself. Knightley knew that the eleven year old could barely tolerate him and he took it in stride. Though he pretended to favor his aunt over his uncle, Emma knew that the two were more alike than they knew with Hank having turned into quite the grumpy little bookworm. She often caught him observing Knightley when he wasn’t looking - watching the way his uncle rolled up his shirtsleeves or the way he mixed a drink. Almost as if Hank were cataloguing his mannerisms away for later reference. 

It had been fascinating to see the personalities of John and Isabella’s children become clearer and more defined as they got older. Hank had the dark hair and sullen attitude of his mother combined with Knightley’s gentleness and commitment to responsibilities, while his younger brother Johnny was more like Emma in both his fair hair and lively disposition. At nine he already had a predisposition towards shiny things and gossip, and those attributes combined with John’s dry sense of humor made him an absolute riot. The twins, at four years old, were only just beginning to identify themselves as individuals - Bella loved to draw and Emmy was full of boundless energy. Jordy, the baby as he would always be, seemed destined to take after Isabella as he often cried bitterly when he heard a strange noise or his mother was not readily in view.

Star firmly in place, Knightley put Johnny back on his feet and straightened up.

“Hey boys,” he said, “Will you go help Anna for a few minutes? I want to talk to Emma about something.”

“Are you going to kiss?,” Johnny asked with sly glee at the same time as Hank said with a frown, “What about the cranberries?”

Emma laughed. “I won’t do the cranberries without you, I promise.”

Hank looked skeptical but he sighed and took his brother by the shoulders to maneuver him out of the room. On the way out he looked back at his aunt and uncle one more time as if he didn’t trust them to be alone together.

Knightley took her hand when they were gone and brought her to the small sofa near the window. “I was wondering if I could give you your present now?”

“You don’t want to wait until after dinner?”

“No, he smiled softly as he reached into his back pocket to retrieve the gift. He handed it to her and she began to unwrap it as he slung an arm around her shoulders.

Under the paper was a small box. Emma tipped the lid open, looked at what was inside and then immediately shut it. She looked at Knightley sternly. “George.”

His smile fell and he sat up straighter. “Don’t freak out.”

“Is this...? George, I can’t -”

“- I didn’t mean it like _right_ away. We can wait a few years. We can wait _ten years_! You don’t even have to wear it - I was thinking you could put it on the necklace chain until, you know, later…”

He trailed off and Emma returned her attention to the box, cracking it open again.

“This is your mother’s wedding ring.”

“Technically it’s my great-grandmother’s wedding ring.”

“Oh,” she said, closing her eyes, “That makes it worse.”

Knightley laughed nervously. “You don’t like it?”

She opened her eyes. “No - I do. But...are you sure?”

He looked at her. Then he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Em, I’ve had this ring in my drawer for sixteen years. I see it all the time. And whenever I see it, I think of you.”

Emma sighed deeply to contain a sob. Knightley plucked the box from her hand and took the ring out.

“I’m not asking you to marry me now - but I am asking you to marry me _someday_. I don’t care when that is.”

She looked at him and nodded, meeting his eyes as he grinned widely. He picked up her left hand and started to slide the band over her ring finger. It went smoothly at first, and then stopped.

“Oh,” he said dumbly. He had not thought that the ring might need to be resized.

Emma laughed heartily. Then she pulled the ring off and flipped it over, slipping it onto her right pinky finger. “There,” she said, patting his knee, “I’ll wear it here until we’re ready.”

He stared at her with a look of deep love and gratitude before leaning over to kiss her tenderly. Emma kissed him back happily, but then blushed when they broke apart and she looked down at the ring again.

“Now I’m a little embarrassed about what I got you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Well it’s not here yet…”

He was silent. Then he leaned over and murmured. “Emma...did you order me a box of Domino’s Cinnamon Bread Twists?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She played with the ring lightly and looked back into his eyes. “No…”

“Oh - really?”

“...It’s three boxes.”

He frowned, then his face broke into a beautiful smile. He laughed, pulling her close to kiss her forehead. “Oh you are _incredible_.”

“They’re your favorite!”

“Yes, they are,” he said as he stroked her cheek. He was about to kiss her again when John suddenly burst through the front door and bustled by the living room on his way to the kitchen. He was loaded down with last minute items Anna had forgotten and dispatched him to the store to procure. “God that’s a fucking massive tree,” he said as he came to the doorway. Then he turned his attention more fully towards Emma and his brother huddled on the sofa.

“Ah! I see he’s given you our grandmother’s ring.”

“Great-grand -”

“Whatever,” said John good-humoredly. “Listen Em, don’t be worried about Isabella getting jealous or anything - G and I talked about it and we thought it was right that you should have it.”

She smiled at her brother-in-law and squeezed Knightley’s hand.

John smiled back wistfully and then swung a bag full of eggnog cartons over his shoulder. “Also Isabella would’ve hated it if I had tried to propose to her with that ring - she always called all of the Knightley family heirlooms ‘vulgar and decadently depraved.’ Which doesn’t sound so bad to me,” he smirked sardonically before striding away.

Emma and Knightley caught each other’s eye and then burst into peals of laughter. They were just wiping their eyes and getting their breathing back under control when Johnny ran into the living room. His eyes were twinkling with a combination of worry and delight.

“Can you guys come into the kitchen?,” he asked, revealing a smile missing a few teeth. “Hank and I were helping Anna and he cut his hand opening a can. There’s so much blood - you gotta see it! Mom’s gonna go _crazy_!”

Emma clasped Knightley’s hand and the two of them joined the rest of their family.

**Author's Note:**

> Perry the cat is named after Mr. Perry, the town apothecary who is frequently summoned by Mr. Woodhouse in the novel.


End file.
